on the far boundary
play continues
in baiting and teasing
between fox cubs
a little girl in party dress
runs from the dripping covers
interrupts her mum who is talking to grand-dad on the club house patio
Will the foxes eat me?
suitably reassured they won’t
she runs back across the sward
to join another small girl
who muddies her hands with handstands
tries cartwheels
not yet supple enough to compare
with another, again a few months older
who sprints for twenty, thirty or more yards
then cartwheels, hand, hand, foot, feet
cartwheels, sprints, cartwheels
across the soggy outfield
a Lear jet makes its way above a wing of parakeets heading south
two crows seeing them off
a final sunburst cuts through
the gap between cloud and horizon
a siren winds into earshot
scoring the change of evening to night
I pick a fat blackberry from a bramble overhanging the path
it bursts in my fingers
stains them like blood
tastes of fresh rain
reminds me of autumn school days
an old grey vixen
just a few feet ahead
turns, stops, stares at me
slips through a front garden gate, disappears
the bus to New Cross Gate whines by
an electric powered red oblong
filled with cool white light
but just two passengers downstairs
over the street a queue of sorts
standing, sitting, reading phones
a pair of voluble women
talking about the importance of talking
the duct from a mobile air-con unit
pokes through net curtains
pours out moist air from a first-floor window of the low-rise block
dispelling the breathless stories
of the housebound sick
Boyle’s patrons crowd the pavement
attracting the attention of a passing Porsche driver
who parps his horn
Pascal’s Bistro opposite is closing up
some empty tables
a couple of women lean into conversation across the dregs of a bottle of Chardonnay
four men slouch back in a post-prandial pause
savouring shared camaraderie
further down Station Road
by the crossroads
disturbed by roadworks
outside the takeaway on this Saturday night
a moped rider putters off with the next home delivery order
on the station platform
under a sign stating
No smoking No Vaping
a young man rolls a joint
sparks it up
cracks open a tin
swigs the beer
the Charing X train is On Time
and due in 8 minutes
~
CLP 20/07/2025
Journey of Words 