Soothing, routines

Just another morning
of breakfast chores
knock, at the door

father’s, coming-in
from a night of frustration
fishing nets, as empty
as when he left.

Wearily, he empties his pockets
dropping every coin he owns, clumsily
making a kitchen table, tap-dance

‘good morning, my loves’
he manages to whisper
while shivering and straining
to keep his smile, from dissipating.

Shuffling of feet, a chorus of relief
coins swiped, into forgiving aprons
warm water poured, lovingly

two more places, set
a handful of sardines, offered
to a beloved family pet
appeased enough, to turn and greet.

‘How did y’all sleep?
Sea, was dreadfully choppy
sorry, hardly anything was biting.’

Soothing, routines

Soothing routine, as a repeated hymn
of unspoken, comfort
‘Oh just fine, but storm kept us awake
just glad, you’re back safe…’