Three mornings
Cat up winter tree;
crouching black on bare branches,
gazing at the sky.
Mist smudges daytime
into grey; trees disappear.
Train puffs through the clouds.
Sunshine paints the walls.
A lark sings on a rooftop;
rosy morning glows.
* Jac Cattaneo lives in Brighton and teaches Fine Art students about writing while trying to do it herself.
