Something to Say

I warm my bare feet on the dash board,
sitting in the boyish manner that makes you laugh,
as we drive up Avondale Road.

Yet, I know you have something to say –
I can tell by the way you grip the steering wheel.
You watch me from the corner of your eye.

The outside world seems curious; I think I can hear
the sky’s heavy breathing as it leans
over my shoulder through the sun-roof.

An inquisitive sun presses her hands
to the windscreen, burning my legs.
Trees congregate around our car,

fingering the windows.
Finally (with a sigh) you murmur:
“I’m leaving, Baby.”

The sky is struck dumb and retreats, stepping
on its own clouds. A careful sun slips behind
the horizon. The trees tip-toe away to whisper.

I remain calm, shifting slowly
to place my feet on the floor,
and reply: “I know, Dad. I know.”