By Vita Forest
In the pool at dusk
shafts of sun break diagonal
through glitter-edged clouds hunkering in from the west.
I float in the pool and note how
Max swims like he talks
thrashing and splashing
dives designed to disturb the peace
with the biggest amount of bluster.
Lucy examines blue-shelled snails
strolling on slick black rock at water’s edge
peels one off and peers at its secret inside suction system
puts it back and it trundles on.
We burrow our fingers in the soft swaying strands of moss
green and warm from the sun
The clouds rear over the hills and rain falls hard.
You almost can’t believe the change
The ‘steady drum of rain’
Bucketing, pouring, pelting, crashing, smashing,
as I sit safe on the balcony
cocooned in my cage
a cage barred with falling water.
Then it’s over.
As quick as it began.
The world smells fresh and green
and I watch a man climb out of his car and
perform a magic trick
whipping off his boardies
under a tucked-in towel
slinging them in the boot and
And I wonder
could I manage that manoeuvre?
The blue is peering down through the grey again
at the black dog racing along the beach
kicking up clods of yellow sand as it goes.