‘That Broken Pot’ by Kate Dempsey

There is a new moon
and the heavy clouds are calm,
the wind has dropped,
yet there is still a tap-tapping
on your window.
Does it bother you?
That shiver, as if something’s breath
has grazed, raised the hairs on your neck.
Why do you rise and draw the curtains
tight across the chink?
Look out –
the shadows steal towards you.
What is it startles next door’s dog,
its barking, sudden to start, sudden to cease?
Not the cat,
she’s hissing beneath your bed.
Who- or what – is watching ?
Believe what you will,
that crunch of gravel,
that scuffle at your sill
is not a fox or swooping owl.
Did you lock the back door ? Are you sure ?
The crows are roosting in high branches,
it is not they who claw through your bins
for numbers, dates, addresses,
leaving scattered shreds,
knocking that broken pot
you find in the morning.
© Kate Dempsey , all rights reserved.

from Some Poems,  Published 2011. Some Poems ,a Moth Little Edition.

Image , Portrait of Maud Cook by Thomas Eakins, 1895

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