The kitchen looked like a church at Christmas
thanks to Dudley, Eunice and Franklin,
but it wasn’t romantic.
It was cold
even though it seemed to be lit by warm fire.
I fill a kettle from a tap as I look out
of my double-glazed window,
light the gas hob, make coffee
(I note it’s from Colombia).
And somewhere in the world I know
there are people cutting down trees
to mine the earth for more gold and copper
to keep the pockets of the rich filled up.
Somewhere in the world
there are people who have no candles
and they don’t get breakfast every day,
people who suffer floods or drought
fires or hurricanes or famine
who live without running water
or proper shelter from ever stronger storms.
Swathes of forest are burning
animals can’t find food
our plastic waste fills waterways and oceans
bees are dying, icebergs melt
sea levels are rising, islands drowning.
Somewhere in the world
farmland is turning to desert.
And here, we turn on the gas
to make coffee before we light the open fire,
and burn more coal.
And thanks to storms Dudley, Eunice and Franklin
we wait with our candlelit breakfast,
for the electricity to come back on,
so we can run the oil-fired central heating,
recharge our phones and laptops
fire up the wi-fi and pretend
we are connected to the world.
