A hop and skip is cuter than a skuttle and sprint,
and we watch the squirrelrat sweetly bury a nut in
the crescent shaped border of our back garden.
Each day the September sun shifts direction across
the morning sky and I now have to pull the right
rather than left curtain over this window where I
write. One of my two weekly fasting days, this
morning’s breakfast has broken some part of
the loose rules. I’ve moved the Angel Wings, but the
slugs will not be fooled. If the delivery driver
complains again about teachers, I will tell him to
fuck off one more time.
.
Mike Ferguson
.