Lazuli Green Island Mama

Lazuli Green Island Mama

Sunday, October 30, 2011

Spring evening with children

There is a boy to my left and another to my right. Tonight they swing and sway through stages of grumpiness, then they leave the table to chat to friends over the deck-railing.

I'm eating asparagus grilled in butter and garlic, spinach pasta, tomatoes and cucumber drizzled with olive oil and sprinkled with sea salt and sesame seeds, chunks of avocado, cobs of corn.

A horn sounds, more yachts set sail.

Cool breeze, flags sway.

The bougainvillea stretches above the railing, blooming deep pink, and the jacaranda's flowers are showing us their colourful sides.

A cat meows, a dog implores me to feed him. The dog ate a sea-cucumber before dinner: the stench of it wafts up from his muzzle. A cockatoo peers at us over the guttering and a rainbow lorikeet lands on the railing, but he flies away as soon as he remembers that noisy boys live here.

The tide is coming in as Cat Stevens sings from the kitchen.

All at once, this evening is
quiet and beautiful,
If only those two boys would stop
being grumpy
or demanding
or sulking
or whining
or roaring,
at each other, and at me.

That was our evening meal.

No comments:

Post a Comment