YEAR 1 : WEBMAKER AND FRIENDS
Spring. Deep sleep in the early hours
jarred awake by the creak-shriek of wood
clinging to fast-embedded nail.
"Who's there?" through the window garage-ward
Silence. Return to sleep.
Morning. Every horizontal garage plank removed
placed, transformed into a little house in the one solid corner.
My small son, smile wavering uncertainly, says,
"It was Wood–den Man, Daddy"
I scowl, feign anger
and smile behind my hand.
Summer. Lightly dozing in the warmth
roused by a shatter-crash of broken glass
splintered on resisting stone.
"What's the matter?" towards my den
"Nothing, Daddy" Continue doze.
Later. In my den a pull-along truck
piled higgledy-piggledy high with locks, catches, handles.
My son, serious and very sincere says
"It was Lobster-man, Daddy"
I growl, feign anger
and smile behind my hand
Autumn. Catching up with admin. tasks
disturbed by a shuffle-scuffle of trainer-shod
feet across the bedroom floor long before bedtime.
"What are you doing