It's Still Life

Much To My Unsuppressed Delight

Sunday was with Granny. Grandpa lived there too,
but he was as dependable as weather,

a shiftless man, claimed Granny, but I liked him,
and I adored the white rabbits that lived

in old apple crates with chickenwire doors.
I fed them carrots straight from the garden while

Granny had one stewing with veg and tatties
on the stove, ‘though Granny said it was chicken.

There were three old rusty Fords half buried
in the ground behind the chicken coop, and .

after dinner, which wasn’t chicken, I was
told to go and play outside, and I’d jump

up and down on the roof of those old Fords,
sprung metal sounding like drums of thunder,

much to my unsuppressed delight.

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