The kid bouncing down into the subway, three stairs at a time, as if his feet were truly made of springs
The plane trees outside the brewery changing into Autumn colours,
The sun finding a gap through a halo of cloud and spilling sun down over Newlands,
The two teen boys in their school uniforms throwing plane-tree seed-balls at each other (steely-eyed, whip-wristed terrors at the throw, then lanky, spaghetti-limbed gigglers as the target)
Seeing the same faces at the station,
And it being a still and lovely 22 degrees after the weekend’s infernal 37 –
Even though I’ve made myself so terribly sad,
You’ve strewn love-letters all along my way home.

owl joy


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