Nazreen Sansoni

_{Mornings at the annex}

_{painting  shadows}

_{Of the tree outside, its branches}

_{Whisper at the window}

_{The cat creeps past}

_{On the ledge, paws on the books}

_{“how to look after my cat in thirty days flat”}

_{leaves its mark on it while hissing at the dog who has}

_{come around from her side of the bed to greet}

_{me. Her wags are gentle and speed up as she}

_{welcomes my response. I reach out to pat her, hold her}

_{say good morning. Her tail is now wagging fast so that she knocks}

_{my glass of water into smithereens. Bother!}

_{The phone rings, my husband puts on his best awake voice and says}

_{“good morning, how are you? So, polite, I think. It’early, not yet 7:00.}

_{Mornings at Anderson Road}

_{In Ulrich’s annex- A koha screeches}

_{Drowns out the music playing;}

_{Om’ 108 times for meditation}

_{Followed by Chopin and Bach piano concertos}

_{Mornings at Anderson road and I want to jump out of bed}

_{Today I wait for Melanie. My physio.}

_{who will box with me and make me jump}

_{Mornings at Anderson mean lots of people and breakfast with}

_{Extended family. I look at my notes of things to do and want to rummage through}

_{The cd’s to make a killer playlist.}

_{Charlie Parker, Herbie Hancock, Miles Davis, Bill Evans}

_{And so much more.}

_{Mornings at Anderson Road and we contemplate Blueberry pancakes out of BISQUICK}

_{Not healthy, not for me, but I am happy to make them.}

_{Fry some bacon to go with it. Maple syrup from Canada complete the plate.}

_{The rest of us eat eggs, drink homemade juices and contemplate our existence}

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