Clicks



Christmas lights are paused. The extension lead is redirected for a laptop battery boost. Boy clicks and complains of hitting bedrock. We have a houseguest this week: the two lads lean in to the screen and comment.
Can't you-
Click click.
No this is as fast as you can travel, except falling out of the sky down-
Click click.
Oh, yeah, or there's, you got some smoke I guess-
Click click.
Dun-du-lalala, dun-du-lalala-
Click click.
Dog sleeps in her basket, deposed from sofa dominance. Dried mud flecks her coat from our earlier walk; from the storm thrown woodlands where the boughs knocked and the earth coughed pheasants up.
Click click.
A few Christmas cards are squeezed on the mantelpiece, in amongst the various items: a wooden model man, vegetable seeds, wedding photo, address labels.
Click click.
Have you ever made a cannon-
Click click.
No-
You haven't lived! I'll show you-
Click click.
In comes Mr, shuffles himself a sofa spot. The lads move up. Dog wakes, sneaks in. The TV sings, aspiration songs.
Our tree is dressed smart casual; santa hat, musical tie.
Outside the weather eases down: it cools. The moon fattens up accordingly.
Click click.



Dog pats Boy


Comments

Suze said…
'Our tree is dressed smart casual'

:)

I think the tree we put up this year is the prettiest tree I have ever seen. Don't know what it is, exactly.

What a nice post, Lis.
Lisa Southard said…
Watching teenagers play Minecraft wouldn't be on a list of things I would pick to inspire a deep appreciation of how lucky we are to be here: but there you go! Something different and lovely going on :-)

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