It's Still Life

Crumbling Midwinter Light

So here I am,
somewhere under the sun,
although I’ve not seen
even the briefest bit of it today.
Just mist and ice-gripped grass,
and a world made for crisis,
and crumbling midwinter light.

At least the spread
of dust under foot
is less noticeable.
So I do the “noticeable” chores,
and then tidy the plants —
twist off limp blossoms
from my pouting cyclamen,

which collapses like a shadow
as soon as I turn my back on it.
And to think in two weeks
I can start all this over again.
A clean slate.
A fresh start.
Maybe a new cyclamen, too.

Note: my “across the room” is my cyclamen which is very unhappy at the moment because I moved it from its long-standing position. Written for The Twiglet prompt #3