The regular ticking of the clock
The tapping of the heating radiators
The sound of airplanes scouring the sky
Like stones being polished as they skim the cold stratosphere
The house shoes on the landing
Bathed in North light from the long window
The feint twittering of little birds
I scratch my head and the sound is amplified by proximity to my ear
I hear the pen itself scraping over the page
Eased on its journey by ink bleeding out
Leaving shapes, hieroglyphs, pictograms, words and sentences
My partner groans a little in sleep
I’m glad to have escaped the computer
Into this notebook page
I find myself here
Whereas I always lose myself there
It’s New Year’s Day
When we have a right to review and renew ourselves
My stomach gurgles
My partner breathes
The clock ticks
The radiator taps
The birds twitter
Cars pass
North light falls on the house shoes
Another airplane delivers visitors to London
Arriving on New Year’s Day
I turn my notebook
To turn a page
At some point
Perhaps now … or now
I should end
But still I hear the clock tick
A bone in my foot cracks as I move it
My partner shifts position and breathes more heavily
My stomach gurgles
Digesting porridge and black coffee
The house shoes sit on the landing
Bathed in light from the long window
They wait for our feet
On New Year’s Day
They wait, like little boats
Ready to take us on journeys
To other rooms
And perhaps even down the stairs
To meet and transfer
To outdoor shoes
Which promise
In their turn
To carry us out
And away
On New Year’s Day