A Moment of My Own

I turn around,

And I find a mundanity,

That’ll never happen again,

As rare as any.

A sparse shower of October leaves,

Sweating in the unseasonable heat;

Carrot golds and warm mustard,

Murky reads and crinkly browns.

The stretching, frothy grey overhead,

Damp and omnipresent,

Heightens the rich, watered green,

And the solid, blackened path.

It’s a Wednesday,

Like all the other fifty-one,

But I’ll never get this again,

Even if I were to get five-thousand,

Or so;

If I’m lucky.

She’s climbing the hill,

Carefully watching her feet,

Carelessly oblivious.

The child,

Not ours,

Is in the pram,

Too young to know what they don’t,

Only briefly wondering why I’ve stopped.

The rain was this morning,

And the heat strips our layers,

But the jacket is just in case;

Just in case I prove my worries right.

Never again will I see such a sight,

Just ones echoing,

Boring us,

As if we’re so special.

But for now, I am struck by the odds,

Of life,

Of Earth,

Of humanity,

Of me.

I turn away,

To head on to the school,

With no time to explain.

But in the moment,

Like all the others,

I am spoilt,

By what I can never share.

#HI