He was bent to his shovel work,
on the hottest day of the year
as age raised a dark vest of sweat,
soaking a shadow across his chest:
He stopped to chat, resting too heavily
against the swing, and as we talked
the roped seats oscillated under his
transmission of low energy,
Newton’s Law imposed where he leant,
part-recovered from his shovelled work,
whilst his girls lay immobile in the shade,
which he had previously made.
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