Leftovers for supper most nights,
With beer, pumpernickel, and liver paté.
Tea with a piece of toast for breakfast.
The big meal at noontime,
Followed by an hour-long rest.
Coffee and cake mid-afternoon.
The hardest work was saved
For late afternoon – the mowing,
Raking, and gathering up the leaves.
Some afternoons, depending on the season,
Fruit trees to be climbed and picked,
Or vegetables to be harvested.
Everything according to a strict time
Table, regimented, which I liked,
For the most part. To get any writing
Done, however, I had to get up early,
In the dark, before anyone else,
And set up a make-shift desk
In the attic. Creative work, in this
Milieu, had something grotesque
About it, best kept tucked away.