Six A.M. Thoughts
As soon as you wake they come blundering in
Like puppies or importunate children;
What was a landscape emerging from mist
Becomes at once a disordered garden.
And the mess the trail with them! Embarrassments,
Anger, lust, fear – in fact the whole pig-pen;
And who’ll clean it up? No hope for sleep no –
Just heave yourself out, make the tea, and give in.