To a kettle

Oh, lidded kettle boil me water fast
I cannot live without your heated blast
Your spout is small but perfect for its use
And, as your lid is hinged. it can’t get lost

An electric kettle made by Russell Hobbs
A teapot with a spout and lid with knob
Are what the English need in times of storm
If crisis comes, we need tea hot, not warm

I don’t object to diverse kettle brands.
We had a coal fire once with kettle stand.
Its metal black from soot an burned by coke
We made our neighbours tea which seemed to smoke.

Ah ,kettle , instrument of civil life
We cannot boil our water on a knife.

The dream


Fifty years ago you took your life
And left me for the agony, the trial

Since then I’ve had no vision but denial
Your face was absent,cut out by a knife
I dreamed of you last night, your little smile

There was no motive, we had never quarreled
I was blinded, nervous and too shy
You left to me the agony, the trial

Who consoles the woman left in horror?
Sickly on my lonely bed I lay
I dreamed of you last night, you wore a smile

In my view, I could not see tomorrow
Through my suffering I did try to pay
You left to me the agony, the trial

The grief of fifty years has gone away
Oh, lay down, baby,lay down, baby lay
I dreamed of you last night, your face your smile
You consoled me then, old lovers reconciled

Copyright © Katherine Braithwaite | Year Posted 2020l


TheRaven Avatar

Block poet from commenting on your poetry

Katherine, There’s a rare gem in writing of a smile., though it chose to move on. -Richard

Michael Avatar

Date: 10/11/2020 8:10:00 AM

Block poet from commenting on your poetry

Ironing

One dear husband is enough

Oh,steam iron how I love your heat
And how you make my clothes so neat.
A flat iron is no use to me
No open fire is here,you see.


And thought I liked the flickering coals
I feared those faces that looked droll.
They were in the flames and peered
At anyone who ventured near.


I wonder how the people past
Kept their trousers neat and pressed.
Now I’ve bought a hand steamer
To keep the germs off my femurs


I didn’t like to say,my crotch
In case the devil is on watch.
I never ever used to think
My body perfume was distinct.


And yet it may appeal to men
I don’t want to try again.
One dear husband is enough
Though he did enjoy a cough


He had asthma and bad eyes
Looking out with wild surmise.
He saw my golden hair float by
As by his window it did fly


All at once he fell for me
And we sat by an apple tree.
His clothes were wrinkled so I thought
I would iron them for a start.


He could darn and polish floors
Cook lamb chops and apple cores.
So my steam iron sees much use
I wonder if it’s self abuse


For as a woman feminist
I’m not meant to iron vest
I’m not meant to boil men;s socks
Nor their pants of interlock


I’m not meant to make them tea.
What a naughty person,me!
I must confess these wicked sins
Then I’shall polish my cake tins


Satan wants me down in hell
Don’t say he needs my iron as well
As he was an angel proud
I’ll save him into One Drive Cloud.

Grass singing

I have heard grass singing in the wind.
I have walked through poppy fields in sun
I have known how dark gried can descend

I have watched trees’ shadows in deep ponds
I have felt the arctic wastes of pain
I have heard grass weeping in the wind.

Another soul is writing with my hand
Yet I have wept while loaning them my pen
I am mangled when sharp rain descends

I have known the edges of the mind
I ‘ve sensed the silence un-contained
. I have heard grass singing in the wind.

I am here for people who’re confined
I record the old deals of cruel men
I have suffered when dark rain descends

I have caught the storm by camera lens.
I have felt the solar system bend.
I have heard grass singing in the wind.
I have seen the pitch black rain descend

I

Like a statue

No longer am I rooted like a tree

I’m like a statue standing in a bog

Of all secure connections I am free

My only soulmate is a silent frog

The wind may blow me over then you’ll see.

I’ll sink into the earth like some old log.

I’m well acquainted with adversity.

Lost in this wet earth, my grave is dug

Eaten up by worms and myriad bugs

But not tossed out and eaten by the dogs

I dwell inside this heart still ruled by love

Abandoned by my friends and family

An unencripted gravestone floats to sea.

Flame

God is not the cold condemning Judge

He is a Golden Light,he loves us much

We meet him in our agonised despair

When doubts have killed us like the lack of air.

He will warm us; we can live again.

Despite the suffering and the intense pain.

He will come to us in tongues of flame.

Mysterious fire,oh love without a name

Tenderly

By Katherine copyright

Tenderly I held him took him in

As though we touched each other skin to skin

Dying is what everyone must do

Even when it splits the Me from You

What we took for granted every day

Had its end like any mortal’s play

The length of life is just enough to lie

It’s not here forever, don’t you cry

We are on no plateau but a slope

Slight at first, so we don’t see and note

Gently we are led to where it ends

Beautiful and foolish like ourselves

How can we be split when we are one?

In deep darkness dies the winter sun

Copyright © Katherine Braithwaite |



Flying saucer

I know that’s how death will come,
Suddenly flying into another orbit
when I am photographing flowers.
It’s not a gentle transition.
No-one will know where I’ve gone.
One step wrong and I’m
off the high wire
And plunging into the no safety net.
Flying for a while;
Jumping into hyperspace,spinning electrons
Startle my grey eyes.
Transiting the new black sun
I’m on a double gold helix,
Spider on your web,
Knitting furiously
Into the future heaven on gossamer wings.
Butterfly goodbye,I’m off to see the stars.
And the black holes.No one will come with me.
I’m shaking off,evaporating into mist.
I’m a flying saucer on a circus mission.
I can’t say no to a new invitation.
Make it fast and break with tradition.
Time is passing smoothly till that break
In the music,I’ve been transmuted into a different key
someone else will play me on their violin
I’m a tune,
I’m a thought,
I’m a whisper in your vision.
Goodbye,darling.I’m under orders
Ready to leave for my performance
On the electric carpet.
Death dancing to a tune on a violoncello,
Arpeggionne sonata
I’m playing your words upside down
In a new foreign translation,
Accompanied by solo artists,ice cracking
I’m going in.It’s too sudden.
I’m flying.
Spinning faster to amuse the clowns,
too many ups and no downs.
I’m going right out of orbit
I’ve broken the pull of gravity,
And fly with pure equanimity
Into my future life,
I’m off at some moment.
An instant ,a crack,a loud smack.
That was me passing.

To return love for hate—- is it possible?

rock formation
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

What is humor except crossing a boundary?
I wish I were an ivy growing on your wall
I wish I were a berry
Just about to fall
I wish I were a hazelnut
And you would break a tooth
For my name is Sally
and not, and not,not Ruth
Image

Kitchen paper and coffee.

We see advice about budgeting for food but what about disposable paper m

Kitchen paper.

Tissues . .

Toilet paper

Dusters

Some of these are expensive.

We could use washable kitchen cloths or towels.

We could use cloth hankies.

But probably not cloths for wiping our

bottoms.

If we stop buying so much paper we could save £5 or more a week.

That’s £260 a year.

If we have coffee out every day that’s about £21 a week .

Have it once a week

Save £18 a week

B

Nearly £1000 a year

So £1260 saved unless you take to drink instead.

r

Action

My photo

Eat your own words.

Drink your own blood

Sell your own soul

Ditch your own conscience. My

Bathe in Jesus blood.

Get rid of your own sins by Paranoid Delusions

Assert your own glory by grandiosity and narcissism.

Learn mathematics by self torture and obsession.

Sell your own clothes

Sell your own blood (not all)

Drink your own water to cut your own bill

Sad and blue

Some days are sad and blue

    And then we feel lonely too;

    Or we cause rifts.

    Some days are doldrum days.

    Some days are like bad plays.

    Not such a gift.

    Most days have joyful parts.

    Most days we lift our hearts.

    They pass all too swift.

    Some days love speaks to me.

    Some days I feel so free.

    I love my craft.

    Life is a patterned weave.

    Love helps us when we grieve.

    Love is a raft.

    See how the sun comes back.

    See how light fills the gaps..

    Some days we laugh.

    Weep now and I’ll weep with you.

    I have known sorrow too.

    Yet sorrow will pass.

    Joy is not far away.

    Joy will return one day….

    Life’s  art and craft.

Mary and the alarm clock

Mary sat brooding in her armchair, while Emile slumbered by the redhot  fire
How  can I be sure to waken up tomorrow in time for my Podiatry visit? she pondered
I am used to waking early, but you never know,she told herself
When she went to bed, carryin  a flask of  English  Breakfast Tea she picked up  her alarm
clock but the battery was missing yet again
Never mind, she thought.I shall use my phone instead as she put on her long nightdress and
a wool jumper full of holes
How fortunate that I can wear old clothes in bed rather than seductive satin   lingerie, she thought
They are usually polyester and that’s not warm.Though no doubt if  it is very seductive you will soon  get hot unless your mate works nights down a coal mine.Then, why would a woman wear it?
Does it mean she has a lover living near by, perhaps next door?
We can only wonder why women must suffer not only this but stiletto heels and  blow dries
She put the flask of tea down and got   into her cosy bed.
Alas, Mary was still anxious about the alarm
I’ll go downstairs and get the kitchen clock, she decided.She struggled out of bed and fetched the blue clock upstairs where it was agreeable to being used
I really do need Stan to come back so he could resume waking me when he brought me some tea  at 8 am each morning
Shall I put an advert online<
Very thoughtful, anxious  kind & gentle lady mathematician, good at cooking and boiling  hankies  needs a kind well read man as a  partner.Must get up early to make tea  and filter the News
Preferably a man  from  Tyneside  or similar area
Please phone 0207 ccctheo or email    iamme78@ymail,com
She set her spare phone and the clock  then fell asleep.
She dreamed she was in a rowing boat on Lake Windermere with  her first boyfriend who looked as attractive as  ever
Come and give me a kiss, he ordered her
But surely it is dangerous to make love in a rowing boat, she remarked wonderingly
Yes, we might fall out but  I can swim
But I can’t, she said.Are you hoping I will drown?
Don’t  be so anxious.The Mountain Rescue Team will come and help
We’re not  on a  mountain, she retorded.Anyway I don’t  love you anymore
Why not, he asked angrily?
I went off you because you never read a book and always chose the films we saw.
Did that matter?
There you are,you  didn’t  even ask me if I liked James Bond.You must be an egoist
His eyes glared angrily.Why did you not tell me, he asked
Should a man need to be told to please a potential girl friend?
I suppose not, he answered,Please forgive me.He leaned over to kiss her
but just then all the alarms went off,It was morning,,
How   nice to have a cup of tea while trying  to remember one’s name and date of birth
And to forget the worst boyfriend  ever
At  least he never  hit me, she exclaimed
And so say all of us

Poetry writing tips

 

36 Poetry Writing Tips

Beginning

  1. Read lots of poetry. In fact, read a lot of anything if you want to produce better writing.
  2. Write poetry as often as you can.
  3. Designate a special notebook (or space in your notebook) for poetry writing.
  4. Try writing in form (sonnets, haiku, etc.).
  5. Use imagery.
  6. Embrace metaphors, but stay away from clichés.
  7. Sign up for a poetry writing workshop.
  8. Expand your vocabulary.
  9. Read poems over and over (and aloud). Consider and analyze them

 

 

  Thoughts annihilate

Postmodern poetry has no formal shape
No sonnet,villanelle or rondeau there
Nor is it true or false that we are apes

A sentence made from curses aggravates
Makes   even slight hurts something we can’t bear
Postmodern poetry has no formal shape

This very poem’s ironic , it emotes
Glares with total rage at  you who care
If it’s true or false that we are apes

This poem,alas, will offer no escape
If it has no rhymes  then I have flair
Postmodern poetry has no formal shape

The forms are hung until we get to break
We shatter and we crack the poet’s lair
I think it’s true and false that we are apes

For a metre I will hang in here
Waiting with no patience for a jeer
Postmodern poetry has no formal shape
Nor is it true  that  thoughts annihilate

 

If you are really short

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

I feel sorry to know that in this country there is real poverty and frantic people trying to survive.These ideas may be insufficient

Wash clothes less often

Don’t change the sheets to frequently

Wash before bed . That helps.

Air beds daily

Don’t put greasy products on your hair.Save money too.

Can you afford a dog?

Re-home them.

What is a luxury?

I didn’t know what a cafe was until I was 10

I went to the technical college to sit the 11 plus

My friend saw money on the ground 17/6

After the exam she took me into a cafe for refreshments

I have liked them ever since.

So to do give up coffee is hard because it’s a place we meet people too

During Lockdown I saved money & lost 10 in in Weight.

But unless you have no choice don’t deprive yourself of important little treats.

Remember there will always be better toilet paper or tougher kitchen towel

Stop looking for them.zMake Do and mend or manage

The downside of economising

If you start using cotton hankies and you have a family you are looking at doing a very hot wash unless you boil them in a pan This plus soap powder is an expensed

And in this pandemic it’s better to use tissues that you dispose of

Learn maths the baking way:pie and pi






https://sallysbakingaddiction.com/cake-pan-sizes/

Photo by August de Richelieu on Pexels.com

Common Baking Pan Measurements

In this list, you’ll find common baking pan measurements and the volume of batter they hold. ***The amount listed is the total amount of batter each pan holds, but you usually only fill cake pans halfway (unless otherwise noted in the recipe you are using). Most measurements were taken at my home kitchen. Cross referenced with the always trusted Joy of Baking, as well.

Measurement Conversions

  • 1 inch = 2.54cm
  • 1 cup = 240ml

Round Pans:
6×2 inches (15 x 5cm) = 4 cups (960ml)
8×2 inches (20 x 5cm) = 6 cups (1.4 liters)
9×2 inches (23 x 5cm) = 8 cups (1.9 liters)

Square Pans:
8×2 inch square (20 x 5 cm) = 8 cups (1.9 liters)
9×2 inch square (23 x 5 cm) = 10 cups (2.4 liters)
10×2 inch square = (25 x 5 cm) = 12 cups (2.8 liters)

Rectangular Pans – 2 inch (5 cm) tall
11×7 inches (28 x 18 cm) = 10 cups (2.4 liters)
13×9 inches (33 x 23 cm) = 14 cups (3.3 liters)

Springform Pans:
9x 2.5 inches (23 x 6 cm) = 10 cups (2.4 liters)
10x 2.5 inches (25 x 6 cm) = 12 cups (2.8 liters)

Bundt Pan – volume varies because of various designs
10×3 inch (25 x 8 cm) = 10-12 cups (2.8 liters)

Tube Pan:
9×3 inches (23 x 8 cm) =  12 cups (2.8 liters)

Jelly Roll Pans – 1 inch (2.5 cm) tall
10×15 inches (27 x 39 cm) = 10 cups (2.4 liters)
12×17 inches (32 x 44 cm) = 12 cups (2.8 liters)

Loaf Pans – about 3 inches (8 cm) tall 
8×4 inch (20 x 10 cm) = 4 cups (960 ml)
9×5  inch (23 x 13 cm) = 8 cups (1.9 liters)

How to Determine the Volume Yourself

If you want to calculate a pan’s volume yourself, it’s so easy! Simply fill your pan with 1 cup of water at a time and count until it’s full. That’s what I do!


How Much Does This Pan Hold?

Here’s a helpful list of the most common baking pans and the volume of batter they hold, as well as which pans hold the same amount of batter. ***Keep in mind that the volumes listed mean you are filling the pan all the way to the top with batter, which isn’t ideal for baked goods. Unless otherwise noted, filling pans around 2/3 full is the best practice. This leaves room for rising.

  • For example, my vanilla cake recipe yields around 8 cups of batter which I divide between 3 9×2 inch round cake pans. (Each hold 8 cups of batter!) Each cake layer has a little less than 3 cups batter each.

Use the following section to determine which baking pans can be substituted for others based on their full volume.

Round Pans

  • 6×2 inch round pan holds 4 cups of batter, the same as an 8×4 inch loaf pan. Fun discovery! Cupcake recipes yielding 12-16 cupcakes fit wonderfully in 3 6-inch cake pans. See my 6 inch cakes for more information.
  • 8×2 inch round pan holds 6 cups of batter.
  • 9×2 inch round pan holds 8 cups of batter, the same as an 8×2 inch square pan and a 9×5 inch loaf pan.
  • 10×2 inch round pan holds 10-11 cups of batter, the same as a 9×2 inch square pan, 11×7 inch pan, 10×15 inch jelly roll pan, 10×3 inch bundt pan, and a 9×2.5 inch springform pan.

Square Pans

  • 8×2 inch square pan holds 8 cups of batter, the same as a 9×2 inch round pan and a 9×5 inch loaf pan.
  • 9×2 inch square pan holds 10 cups of batter, the same as a 10×2 inch round pan, 11×7 inch pan, 9×2.5 inch springform pan, 10×3 inch bundt pan, and a 10×15 inch jelly roll pan.
  • 10×2 inch square pan holds 12 cups of batter, the same as a 12×17 inch jelly roll pan, 10×3 inch bundt pan, 10×2.5 inch springform pan, and a 9-inch tube pan.

Rectangle Pans

  • 11×7 inch pan holds 10 cups of batter, the same as a 10×2 inch round pan, 9×2-inch square pan, 9×2.5 inch springform pan, 10×3 inch bundt pan, and a 10×15 inch jelly roll pan.
  • 9×13 inch pan holds 14-16 cups of batter, essentially the same as 2 9×2-inch round pans.

Their names changed frequently

photo1796_001-21 (1)

Art by Katherine [ from photo of my leg with a bleeding insect bite]

Jim Brown was in his new conservatory admiring the windows he had just

polished.His 82nd birthday was coming up in a few days

Marie,his stunningly attractive yet irritable,nasty and over educated

wife,a leading authority on Wittgenstein and most likely suffering from

Asperger’s syndrome into the bargain,….oh a cliche prone author too—!

had made a huge whole orange cake and planned a large gathering of friends to

celebrate his survival for so long whilst married to her,not easy sheknows.

He heard a sharp tapping on the door.

There lay Lucy   their next door neighbour   spying through the keyhole.

“Are you on your own?” she queried tersely yet rudely.

“No, yet I’m suffering from chronic existential anxiety” Bill lied politely.

“Well,I just saw Martina on her second hand Raleigh bike going to the

market or the Charity Shop or possibly leaving home for ever….”

“Well,I still have the cat here”,he whispered loudly as if he were free

associating in a dream

“Let me in and make me some coffee” she asked courteously,

“She’s an odd one” the cat Emile thought naughtily.

“Where’s my Carnation cat milk?”

“Real or instant?” Simon answered suavely yet naturally.

“Won’t it wash off your brand new coral lipstick from Chanel of Paris?…

not to mention your factor 60 sunblock.”

“God’s whiskers” she murmured quaintly to herself.

“How does he know it’s Chanel?

Is he a spy or what?

Is he in M.I.5?”

John got some instant coffee and debated whether to put in a little LSD to

add some visions to their morning!

No,a short breathing exercise would do he concluded after 9 minutes of obsessive

anxiety.

He sat down in his favorite old wooden Habitat chair having poured the

coffee into some old plastic mugs.

“Did you know Habitat is going b..b bankrupt?” she brightly stuttered

turning pink with happiness and the menopause which so far had lasted over 30 years.

Suddenly Lucy sat down on Bert’s lap and began to kiss his right eyelid

“Careful, my darling!” he muttered insensibly.

He was savouring the annoyingly uncommon pleasure when the chair fell to pieces as it

frequently did at such times, throwing the elderly but

versatile and experienced couple down onto the new Mary Quant patterned pure New

Zealand lambswool carpet.Suddenly they heard the peal of Mary’sbicycle bell.Shortly she

walked into the room carrying 78 bags of groceries for the birthday party.

“What’s going on here ?” she murmured seductively in a piercing shriek.

“I’m so sorry, Jenny, please accept my apologies, he has this thing about

chairs.It’s a fetish ,I  believe,   according to Sinald Floyd.””

“Have you got your mobile?” shrieked Tom agonisedly in a  loud whisper.

”I can’t get up.” he screamed softly.”Am I dead?”

“What cannot stand up must forever remain lying down”

As my old philosophy tutor at Cambridge used to say, muttered Marty.

“Why, that’s  bit extreme,” said Jane uneasily yet gallantly.

.”MY tutor said “Who cannot speak must forever remain silent.”

“Oh,who was your tutor?”

“Elizabeth Ansconbe!” Amy admitted furtively.”She knew Wittgetensin well.”

“Mine was Iris Murdoch!” called out Alf.

Later they heard a silent siren.It was the emergency ambulance.

Dick, the paramedic bounded into the room.

“It’s this chair”  said Marie urbanely.

“Can you mend it for me? My husband can’t manage without it!”

“Anything else, madam?” Rick queried anxiously.

“Any coal to fetch in,tins to open, blocked toilets?”

“Later maybe.”

Danny looked at Joan.

“Your eyes look like two deep pools in the Caspian sea.” he whispered into her left ear.

“Are you on another creative writing course?”she quipped .urbanely

“Yes, we’re on eyes at the moment; what colour is that eyeshadow you have on.”

“This is called winter teal” She admitted uneasily yet seductively.

“Did you know I’m a transvestite?” he admitted happily.

“Yes”,she replied dishonestly

.Kitty liked  to give an impression of omniscience owing to her ontological insecurity and

her ignorance of theology and also her narrowly trained mathematical mind.

Unfortunately, that frequently gave men the wrong impression.

Mamie cried out to Al,

“Get on with it,my sweetie!” So he took out a big tube of glue from his

jeans’ pocket and set to work reconstructing the chair.

“Oh,dear, Stewart looks a bit odd”

“No,he looks quite prime to me.”

“Is he an integer?!”

“No, he’s a transcendental real number”

“He’s a number all right.”

“Never mind, we’ve just got new wheelie bins so I’ll put him out with the

rubbish,”

Marty joked on hearing Amy’s remarks to Zach.

But Simon was not yet dead.He merely had fallen asleep.

He dreamed of his days at Oxgridge University studying illogic and unreason with

Rudolphina Catnap, the famous female philosopher.Oh, happy, happy days!

Danny made the ladies some Ceylon tea in the fabulous oak kitchen with its pure linen

curtains in raspberry beige. and its black enamel sink with

matching double oven and microwave.”Why no halogen?”Iris Murdoch might have

asked.

“What is a human life,”he pondered.He was studying logic as well as writing.

He began to tremble like a leaf in the wind to use a freshly recycled old

cliche.

“Help” he called,”I’m having a panic attack.Hurry I’m dying,I believe.I

need a priest“

“You can’t have a panic attack,” shouted Marianne

“Paramedics heal themselves.”

“Does God heal those who heal themselves,  he  wondered as he lay under a pile of

broken china?”

“Where’s the tea?” called the ladies.

Ah ,if only Wittgenstein were here,he would know,thought Emile.

But I disagree.Only God would know that and He won’t say usually as he

speaks another language known only to the few.Though sometimes one may hear it on

the wind deep in a thick forest.

That’s what I believe.

Here endeth the first lesson… no more today

When my legs give way

It’s already going darker and your dinner’s in the pot
Where are you now, my sweetheart? I remember,I forget
I know you liked those kippers smoked in Whitby in a shed
Your breath was something else again, when we went to bed

Then there was the big pie shop, above the mile of beach
We have no pork butcher but we can still buy meat
Men like a steamed pudding hot with home made jam
They like custard, gravy, HP Sauce and ham

We walked out on the causeway and the wind was very wild
We saw the fleet of fishing boats. tossing on the tide
You were so romantic, you went out overnight
But you got sea sickness and your merry face was white

We went up to the Abbey and we saw the cliffs so high
Nature is so beautiful, it makes me want to die
In that stunning moment, when the legs give way
That itself is quite enough,I’ve nothing more to say

Buy Me

My art

Incidentally at the mall” – Counting Sales

“Anarchy in the Class War.” -Police Bristols

“Along Comes Trouble.” by W.Grout

“Captain Slacker” -Billy Joe

“Capello of Limes” -Dixie Jupp

“China Cup” -Market shop

“Dearest biscuit A Cook.

At the end of rhymes.Beyond Shelley. Frieda VerseBooks

Which direction?

A day of sudden changes.Clouds

cross the sky

like whales swimming North in rows.

The sun was bright,dazzled my eyes

with gold and silver.

Wind cut across my face

like a slap from an angry father..

Those who love can also seem to hate us too..

The lure of that small childish body

tempts them to divert their anger towards it.

When the ones who hurt you

are also the ones you love,

it’s hard to know which direction to run in;

but it usually turns into a circle.

Retreating turns into a new arrival.

Straight lines might be better. though

On a spherical earth

difficult to find.

Even parallel lines meet

In their Riemannian geometry.

So we can never get away

Sometimes the best we manage

Is to increase the circle’s radius.

Though how is hard to know.

Do you love me or hate me?

Do you want me to stay or go?

What do I want?Do I have a me?

The memory of warmth draws me back

Like a cold lonely beast leaving the jungle

To lie down with a what appears to be a lamb,

Surprising the farmer up early to milk his animals

Finding a strange new one

Looking with tender,puzzled eyes

into His Human Face.