the gentle unsticking of my heels from the bottoms of their flats as they make their quiet way through shadowy leaf jungles unfurling across the sidewalk. and the sound of nothing, the sky aubergine and deep, but the chime ticking of sliders on my bag.
clouds spread out like splayed hands, or fingerprints. dusting the sky in eggshell, speckling blue, and the sun behind it all opaque beaming.
the flung out joy of charging, tripping over their ecstasy children spilling onto the grass like confetti.. lungs near-erupting with carrying the beautiful weight of their wonder.
new dawn dripping with sherbet sun. like ice floes softly burning.
wood dark and crackling with sun, moving against my palms, heat-swollen, humming ecstatic. my feet curled into the space beneath knees, ankles awkward against plank and searching for grace in the tucking of my dress .. tingling into forgetfulness after too long and making their blind way into sandals rough with unfamiliarity.
tracing itself along the edge of my jaw, spice and leather woven into the red twisting of my scarf, one million heartbeats suddenly in the space of too few seconds. so it feels like i could burst.
park unfolded like eden, all jewelled grassy expanse, grave billowing trees and clouds breaking up the blue sky like cornish cream epiphanies.
the waterfall of yule’s hair, everywhere and ignored.
(bayed, faceted, ceiling-high) and the air light with the smell of rain.
lapland on the southbank, bright colours against the absolute flaxen of their hair, against the blankness of snow. and visions of elk, suddenly, and ice queens.. shards in boys’ hearts, embedded and devastating. or was it eyes? and my childhood loops itself through the ribbons along their skirts, whispers through their rabbit fur boots. so soft.