The Farm Cottage

Boots at the door, a smattering of manure
Clinging on for dear life
The cat through the door, friend no more
The dog, breaking wind and walking

The kettle is boiling urgently
On the side of the range
Glowing red almost, an inferno
The rest of the house is a freezer

The water tank boils and the tap is run
Steam exhausting in a kitchen of chaos
Nothing fitted here, all stand alone
Everything on its own feet

A seat on the loo counting the blocks
Each showing, frost gathers the outlines
The breeze is a chiller, seeping through gaps
The window, the doors

Two houses as one and a huge garden,
Vegetable rows, like soldiers on parade
All green and perfectly straight
To feed the masses and monsters