Early Morning Feed

The father darts out on the stairs
to listen to that keening
In the upper room, for a change of note
That signifies distress, to scotch disaster,
The kettle huming in the room behind

He thinks, on tiptoe, ears a-strain,
The cool dawn, raising like the moon:
"Must not appear, and pick him up:
He musn´t think he has me springing
to his beck and call"
The kettle rattling, behind the kitchen door.

He has him springing
A-quiver on the landing-
For a distressed note, a change of key
To gallop up the stairs to him
To take him up, light as a violin,
And stroke his back until he smiles
He slides in the kitchen,
and pours his tea...


And again stands hearkening
For milk cracking the lungs
.There´s a little panting,
A cough: the thumbs in, he´ll sleep
The cup of tea cooling on the kitchen table

Can he go in now to his chair and think
Of the miracle of breath, pick up a book,
Ready at all times to take it at a run
And intervene between him and disaster,
Sipping his cold tea as the sun comes up?

He returns to bed
and feels like something, with the door ajar,
Crouched in the bracken, alert, whith big eyes
For the hunter, death, disaster.