Thursday 26 November 2009

#60 - Ripe

'Well, if not now, then when?'
Jez says, having snuck into Nathan's
willy orchard. I see scrumping
as a patriotic act,
he will later blog,
but for now, he shushes Cassandra
with an index finger against the corner of her mouth

and a kiss to the front.
With his free hand, he reaches up
and picks a farm-fresh todge right off
the branch. If I'm candid, I was thrilled
by his audacity,
Cassandra's status update for tomorrow will read.

A klaxon starts up.
A bank of floodlights drowns them.
'Get down on the ground, and thread your hands
behind your back!' comes the bullhorned order,
helicopter downdraft flattening the grass.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Note: only a member of this blog may post a comment.