A thread through a fortnight

They said there would be rain in the air today and it was fair.
And yesterday and last week were as wet as wet.

There was a whisper that the woman at the top of the block was unhappy with
Her misfortune
Of being miserable and contemptuous and

'Stay off the lawns' and 'Don't put that there and 'Stop making the place pretty with flowers Eveline'.

Whilst robbers in an unkempt van made haste with big chunks of wood that they shouldn't have
And
Neighbours’ daughters arrive from distant lands to see their father fragile from life

And tend

With a strong thread attached and running through them
The colour of blood. The colour of soil. The colour of sadness. Love. Imagination.
The colour of wind.

The robbers had come back for their van

Rebecca had gone. Moved to the north of the city.

A feeling of flux beginning to settle but with consequence.
I have paint in my hair for one.
And a hand full of life.
A box of threads and buttons passed down through generations.
And some empty jars waiting
To be filled with honey.