VIVIEN Jones finds philosophical matter to chew over as she bakes scones.

Her piece comes from her new collection, Short of Breath (Cultured Llama Publishing). A widely published poet (in 2010 she won the London Poetry Prize), she lives on the Scottish side of the Solway Firth.

WHAT TIME IS IT?

I'm cooking scones,

twelve minutes in a hot oven,

time enough to hang out the washing,

or wash the dishes, or feed the cat,

or phone my son to say hello.

Seven hundred and twenty seconds

in twelve minutes,

two thousand million, and counting, in my life,

the scones will change from raw dough

to lightweight delight - and me?

The seconds have flown over me,

there must have been special ones

when I first heard Beethoven, fell in love,

my two moments of conception.

There should have been a bell.

There is a buzzer.

Hot, sweet-smelling air announces

the scones are complete.

Out there in the cosmos,

does it matter that I am not?