There was a frost this morning.
A glass had been left outside,
sitting in the kids’ red Radio Flyer.
It had crystalized, a bowl of perfectly
patterned white, hiding from the sun
behind a sky-blue fence.
Paper rounds quickly shed dressing gowns,
and computer rotas, edited only once,
meant schoolwork was sort of painless.
The sun shined all day, the glass was brought
inside and placed carefully in the dishwasher.
Laundry was a breeze.
By the afternoon I could hear lawnmowers
through an open window and my Twitter
feed showed pictures of a Blundell Park bathed
in sunshine. Such a strange time to feel so fine.