Gretna Green is grey today unless
you are in the café this woman works in.
The rain on the windows is the glass
crying because it has now mouth
to talk to her. She is a thumbs up
wearing a cap. Tea bags are crossing
their fingers to be picked up by hers.
You’d think only an octopus could
put their arm around eight
colleagues’ shoulders at once.
Nice walking boots, she says
as the laces promise to try their best.

© Carl Burkitt 2022