watching
one playing cricket, stumps unsteady in overgrown grass
one climbing the dinosaur bones of the yellow painted frame
one spinning to dizziness on the whirling roundabout -
on the hill, looking, the panic rises black and choking, but -
what's there to do? a parent must -
parent
so with both hands firmly the snarling thing is grasped and she contends for balance
against the weight that would push her sideways into the earth and
a small body presses into her side, laughing
and it costs her, it costs her, but she smiles
and her voice is almost normal as she says
I liked your cartwheels! Can you do more?
and she tightens her mind against the hurricane and waits for the sick wave to recede
and breathes grass and eucalypt and sweat, forcing a slowing of the heart
by ferocious will and nothing else
and says
I think there's rain coming, loves,
we should go soon
as the storm moves past and drops her down, draggled,
on the soft green grass with three children
like she never even left at all.
- Kathy, 30/9/2014
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