Auckland Summer

On a concrete step in the shade
In my nightdress I sip tea.
It is 7 am. There is no wind.
The birds are singing.
Bees bulldoze the poppy flowers.

To my right terraces of chillies, tomatoes, herbs.
To my left a parking bay for one red dump truck
With a yellow tip tray,
One red and blue chariot full of blocks,
And a silver BMW pedal car which is full of sand.

Soon grandson will arrive
And the day will begin.
But right now it’s just me,
The birds, and the neighbour, two doors down,
having a noisy shower
with his small giggling daughter
in a bathroom with all the windows open.


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