Conservatory

Such dusty mats of coconut, and hats,
and wicker chairs that creak; and chats, and cats
on sills that suck the early sun that spills
through glass to pass into the frills and twills
that talk and twitter, pass the time till tiffin,
pass the time of day this way until
the chills of morning pass, and cups and saucers
clink and find the sink.

The daily round’s
begun and yarns are spun in sun and shade
until the fading light brings night; and glass
that’s black as peat reflects the hats and cats
upon themselves while vats of black-tar dark
and bats are kept outside.

And clinks announce
the hour for drinks.