Thursday poem: slow curve
2024-05-23
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
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