This is definitely a first draft, so feel free to comment. And if the commenting panel bugs you, email me at burkeandre(at)gmail(dot)com
Tuesday morning wind
has blown the birds away
and plants sweep
the garden back
and forth.
He is inside his head
as usual
wind whistling in one ear
the other leeward
and nostalgic for
childhood holiday camps
by the Indian Ocean
dogs’ ears pinned back
all eyes
on the horizon.
He leans
and turns the hose off
hand over hand
he wends it around
the half wheel rim
screwed to the porch.
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