On the Nature of Daylight

I’ve delivered most of the village Christmas cards today

Lots of walks up to postboxes and to doorways decorated with wreaths and ribbons.

With the sky turning opaque,

And the temperature dropping considerably 

It was cold 

by mid afternoon.

Mrs Trellis was sat quietly on her sofa,

I saw her through her living room window 

Hands neatly on her lap. 

Eyes off on some distant thought

And my heart broke for her, just a little.

I prepared  a beef stew with dumplings made from scratch with suet and herbs and flour and salt. 

And found a tablecloth and napkins in the back of a drawer,

And lit candles in holders as Weaver watched, with narrow eyes

And the German man I know cancelled supper far too late with a brief text of explanation but with no apology. 

I could weep a little.