a swirl of bells from somewhere
beyond the music on the radio
a cock crowing, crow crying, or
sweet shout of lovemaking
from one or other houses on our street
disturbs the outside frame of all, of each,
of our every attempt to keep sleeping, on
Saturday morning, opening possibilities, waiting
for the first footfall on the doorstep, cat’s claw
on the roof, or hollow clip of tyres on the concrete driveway