Birds bathing in the cracked, ill painted trough.

The golden dog gouging the soil and the deadly brown creature waiting to pounce.

Black and white snout from next door, pushing against the wooden separator, barking in annoyance.

A Goshawk swoops and changes a sparrow’s destiny

Which means dad’s gonna start a twitch

Sometimes it’s the clawed brown death which changes a creature’s destiny and she is annoyed by the predatory invader.

The grass is beginning to invade on the flags,

Must clear it out before the full strength of autumn banishes work in the garden.

The clawed brown death finally springs

And gifts me with her messy blue parcel.

When will she ever learn?

When will I?


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