From under the jumble of cushions on the sofa –

bright black eyes. Blinking in the light.

She frowns at the sudden brightness.

Scrunches her face like a sopping t-shirt,

eyes tight, nose twitching. Just for a moment

a late-waking field vole. Then

unbundles herself. Stretches neck and shoulders, arches her spine,

rolls halfway off the sofa. Grins.

Hungry again, she says.

A playfully supine moment,

then tumbles to her feet,

rummages in her bag,

and she’s off to forage in the gold morning corridors.

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