The grass is different when the summer sun is out softer more inviting want to take off my brown brogues and let my toes breathe can’t remember the last time absurd really but time is consumed back home if not working then what helping mother with the rest of them feeding cleaning washing repeat cycle she needs my help although she never complains at least not to me and I don’t expect my father would listen to it there’s a freedom in this action in feeling the blades between my toes a small escape a simple act flex bend stretch relax muscles taut then relaxed legs pale tinged with pink not long out not used to the exposure black hairs shifting in the breeze park filling up slowly as the sun rises different groups strewn across the expanse of lawn broken here and there by flowering bushes rhododendron fuchsiathe odd vertical a tree a post by the croquet lawn a couple with child wearing a red hat to guard a picnic set out on a stretched square of white cotton the assumed father seemingly uninterested his eyes tuned elsewhere does he take it all for granted four girls young women students sit circled a punnet of strawberries between them fingers dart in and out the fruit hulled at first serious  what subject then laughing one louder than the rest their attention fixed on her back straight legs tucked underneath a cigarette lit then softly fumes a world apart his mother’s cousin an out of sight relative went to Newcastle became a doctor a useless beacon of hope last time I saw a classroom five or six years now no point then no point now a breeze stirs the pages of the diary in my hand nothing written today maybe later too hot to write not much to record that’ll change before long tales of adventure ha perhaps but what else mind can’t fix on what may come to pass injury my own or worse the sight of others mud sweat water drunk from a tin canteen grass to be trudged over not lounged upon cool air drifts from the river a thirst for it another sits close by a man white linen his skin used to the sun his hands dark a book bound in green leather embossed gold can’t make out the title he reads and flicks a brightness sudden then gone a flash of light not from the turning pages but somewhere else where to my left towards the river no one there just a trick a breath a buzzing the fly lands and walks observed twitch then gone there it is again the river a glint from the surface no something there what a discarded bottle a child’s toy something more moving quickly now over the grass my steps light in bare foot the bank a skirt blue an unbuttoned blouse is she her eyes mouth closed hair wet arms limp she looks….