View from a Studio Window

It has everything you need

the desk in the light.

the chair bentwood and straight.

A room of its own around it.

The evidence of work begun.

In front of course

past the terracotta

pots, a view of all

our earthly works:

the town and fields,

hedged to perfection.

Light, dark, marry

on the window's edge,

The view, the task.

Out there sunlight

inks the field with

posts, here you

plough the page,

begin again

knotting up these

worlds, the word

the view, the desk,

and behind you, unseen,

of course, the bed.