Monday, June 20, 2016

Lisa Brockwell #20 Sunday


Sunday


The trees hunker down
into a deep-kneed squat
against the bluster and breach
of the onshore wind.
No holiday-makers today,
just locals out for exercise
and families running
young kids into the ground,
like us.  Rain whipping
our faces with such bite,
my son keeps shouting:
It’s hail, it’s hail!
Brush-turkeys scavenge without
much luck, it’s that kind of day.

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