I rang Ang today at noon,
It was light; there was no moon,
She told me she was in a hurry,
I said, "There, there, dear, now don't you worry."

I told her I was coming round,
Ang said, "No! I'm going out,
But before I set off on my way,
I think you should know it's Erik's birthday."

I trilled a happy, cheerful noise,
And thought of parties, games and toys,
Ang said, "No, Erik wants none of that,
Write him a poem, he would like that."

So here I am, pen awaiting,
Eyes darting, breath abating,
Waiting for my brain to start,
My hand to write and hair to part.

©Cathryn Sharpe