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 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
a green flash along a green street with the car charge stations that look like robot cyclopses – their sole eyes also glowing green
and now I’m glaring through the office window at that particular blue of dusk’s last gasp with the newborn leaves silhouetted against it as the day drains downwards
it is bathtime and bedtime then we’ll do it all again run it back and think it will be this way forever
and nobody will be awake in the small hours to see the street lamp putter out beyond the bedroom window
before we open our eyes to find a few pips of the day already spent and we will hurry hurry hurry into the thick of noon and the slow curve of evening
🪴