Summer in a wheelbarrow

by Ondine Evans

Me:

Your hanky spread carefully for me to sit on,

Scratchy woodchips under my legs, the fresh smell in my nostrils,

A bumpy ride over green grass.

I twist, laughing to see you, with your blue cap on.

It's hot.

The dog follows, as she always does, staying close.

Dad:

I look down at you, my little two-year-old miracle,

Perched so confidently on my unbalanced load,

'Helping' me with the garden beds.

I spread my handkerchief to protect your tender legs from the woodchips,

And adjust my cap, wiping sweat from my brow.

My blue eyes look up out of your small face,

And my laughter rises from your throat.

My littlest, and last.

Me:

So small a glimpse of the past,

So slight an event on a day out of many days,

Has become my everything of you,  in a single snapshot.

Sunlight, laughter, us together, 

forever in my mind.

Written in response to  exercise for Friday 19th August