Studying Form

In those long-ago moments of strewn newspapers and torn  brown paper

A spitting grate of hissing embers warms poor Sandy curled upon the rug

The smell of yesterday’s dinner hanging in the air like tired curtains

The windowpane rattles gently against the Autumn rain

The faint staccato sound of distant riveter’s gun drifts up from the nearby shipyards

Momentarily stealing the silence assigned by the still stale air

Beside the untidy disorder upon the dining table a cooling teacup sits waiting patiently

All the while grandmother Hilda studiously studies form

An up and down Yankee or a regular each way

What’s it to be?

They’re off at Uttoxeter!