Up early this first dew-soaked morning
I stir the precarious pot and contemplate
The hedgerow’s glistening webs
A figure floats out of the mist
Carrying baguettes and the
Smell of freshly baked bread
As he passes politely the flap
Unzips
And your tousled head emerges
You wrinkle your nose
“Porridge? Croissants and coffee, surely!”
“You can take the man out of Scotland but
you can’t take Scotland out of the man.”
You indulge a slow cat yawn and
Survey the misty field
“Come back to bed. You need another French lesson.”
I hesitate pour un moment non galant
And turn off the stove
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