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 hoover the poppy flowers.
I have watered the seedlings and swept the courtyard.
To my right are terraces of flowers,
and silver beet, mint, parsley, sage.
To my left is a parking bay for
One red dump truck full of blocks,
One tricycle with no pedals
And a silver BMW pedal car which is full of sand.
Soon the sandpit lid will be raised
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.
I send this poem to all those friends in Wellington who don’t seem to have had any summer at all.