Thursday poem: slow curve

thinning sunlight spindles through leaves but a spiteful breeze still snicks between my bones

my youngest doesn't like it when I copy her actions –⁠ like letting my long sleeves hang past my hands and waggling them about

"you're embarrassing me" she says, not realising how much of a dad-win that is and I reply "what, are you afraid that a squirrel might see us?"

a chocolate labrador nuzzles the grass on the other side of the fence and a parakeet shrieks as it darts down the plane-lined avenue