Literary Vegan

Open the door. The crisp, early morning breeze Wants to kiss you with promise. Not the kind that can be broken, But hope that flies on molecules Awakening everything it touches -  From distant mountain dwellers and herds To anxious souls in the city, hands Around a cup of tea, faces to the sky.  LJ Ireton 

No-one can resist the duckling -  Still fluffy, stubby wings Jumping each stone step out of the water -  Two webbed feet together, Bobbing under a brown cotton cloud. Everyone, everyone makes 'ooh' and 'aaaah' sounds. They adore. Elsewhere, in sheds, surplus to the human demand for eggs, Hundreds of chicks chirp in crates - Tipped and sorted into steel jaws.  LJ Ireton 

  The miniature teacup wobbles, But won't stain the carpet.  We trip and fall outside, But not in the doll's house. Here the perfume bottle - That scent of a broken heart Creates a glass dressing table For the daydreaming doll And the disordered, thorny garden of tears Provides thimble rose baths For the tiny ones. Placing matchbox beds in order, We tap the tiny heads of Ourselves,  Knowing they are safe.  For a moment, we know a petal blanket In a world That can be fixed with superglue.  LJ Ireton 

We are drawn to the heights of the sky at night - The flickering stars, that original magic That is so far from us it never fades.  Tonight my cat and I look up at the Tiny dots of light, myself wishing, Her wondering - And I realise, more beautiful than  The animal shapes pinned to that dark fabric Is the company of her spirit, Watching the stars with me.  LJ Ireton