Racing Through Summer
We chase friendly weather fronts
through other peoples’ gardens,
distil the sun they have, eat picnics, jig-time
and always we are framed
by lush oceans of waving grass
and trees that foam through
fine cracks in cloud.
Daily our children grow
before our eyes,
more talkative than birds,
more beautiful than birch.
On gentle slopes swollen with jacaranda,
they pick up pace, blur,
and we strain to keep in touch,
another day.
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