Breakfast with Dudley, Eunice and Franklin

 

We had breakfast by candlelight.

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.