The Extra Rinse Cycle
That first walk out, all gauze and swaddle; hedge webs are things spun from mist; blackberries bend stems, dew-rinsed, delicious.
Flowers on the bramble bloom; last year's magic strawberry patch, though frugal, is not absent petals.
Slowly the hazy cover slips; clouds keep the sky barely modest.
Meals are taken at the indoor table, the windows open full stretch.
An afternoon coffee is left on the sill. Two figures in the garden take washing from the rotary line, throw pegs into a pot, hasty and wet.
Rain starts sparse, swells to downpour.