Monday Again

It's raining.
In the world of dreams I'm home, by the fire or in bed
with one of you curled up on either side of me,
warm and happy and soft.
There would be rather strong hot chocolate
A book of fairy tales
numerous dogs and cats
and nothing else to do.

Instead I'm working,
thinking of a red-tailed hawk I saw perched by the river.
She was proud and lovely and sullen,
poised against a lowering sky, her tailfeathers plucked by crows,
in a tree all sweet and fresh with new leaves.
That was a beautiful day, grey-skied and joyful
as this is,
and I am
daydreaming of your scent, the way you feel
listening to the storm.