En attendant quiproquo

The world already waits
At twilight
On a winter’s afternoon,
The sky a crepuscule
Of sympathetic shades;
The writer halts above the page,
Cossettes in a corner booth,
the darker greys of
Accommodating chairs
Allowing for this time,
A sempiternal instance.

Epoch in Amber light;
Suffused, the room,
A patient ambience of
Time withdrawn,
recalling, in this frame
of paused reflection
Corners, cafés,
comforting, cocooned.

Mirabiledictu!
Comes the thought,
of Hurlothrumbo’s courtship
in Anticipated eagerness
of snowfall--
The sky being draped,
its curtain quite attendant
in that instant
of the act’s initiation.

Citronetta,
opaque and translucent,
tea light lit,
The lemon wedges float,
As honey,
gathered
In the depths
of a transparent cup
(what would Dryden,
Comes the thought,
have found
in the occasion
to remark,
at length and with some wit,
it must be said?),
Is stirred,
A murky sediment,
Significant of a sweetness
Dispelling sharp withdrawal
Of bud's retreat.

Twilight-
early winter's day,
a January afternoon,
is passed,
Quite unobserved,
save for two,
Just the one,
the other and
What passes,
silent semaphore,
Between.

A conspiracy of waitresses,
Daughters of Mnemosyne,
Could, the tip being right,
Recount a choric tale
Retold in corner after corner,
Where only
Empty plates and cups
Give the game away.

Julian Wolfreys

This is one of three poems for an icy winter's afternoon. They're all taken from Julian's forthcoming book Draping the Sky for a Snowfall. (Sign-up for publication alerts on the right of this page.) See the other two poems.