THREESOME
Three young women
Scarf-wrapped, woolly-hatted
Travelling together
A little banter exchanged
As they enter, huddled
And sit in a line
In the heated waiting room
After the rail replacement bus.
Three ladies in a line
Fall silent. Wedded to their phones
One briefly checks me out
But soon all are rapped, seriously scrolling
Another glances at her friends
Wanting to chat
But there's no chance of human interaction
They're doom-scrolling now.
HOARFROST
Hoarfrost renders familiar streets
Exotic, beautiful, fresh.
Trees glinting, purified
Steamy breath floats skywards like a mantra
The rising sun turns ice to jewels
Monochrome becomes sunrise bright.
Ice-decorated branches
Recall another hoarfrosted morning
Thirty years ago
Holding my newborn son
Gazing from his beautiful pink face
To pristine trees outside my hospital window.