Saturday Mornings

Rays of light from break of dawn Bed’s warmth in growing morn Scent of fresh, winter air, a chill Below the Ravenswood Hill

A window hung wide open Curled beneath the covers In dim, sunlit glow Reads a book lover

Strewn across a cluttered room Fiction, mystery, adventure, fantasy All in the winter’s favoured morn A mind true behind dawn

Pigeons call, magpies trill Sunlight over the window sill A girl feels at home in her fiction heap Saturday mornings.