After all that rain
all this …
I wake to see art.

Sitting here
with the clocks back an hour
I’m in bed with a coffee.

That bright ball of wool
is being tugged along
by cosmic cats
leaving its fluffy warmth
to permeate the sodden
storm-filled cloak.

Mist curls to chase
the mewing
only to lose substance and fade.

Art remains
to seize the day
and obliterate the night.