It’s Saturday. I know
because the lady at the farm
has the letters S A T U R D A and Y
stitched across her long sleeved T-shirt
in rainbow letters. She’s with her family:
the lad with snot where his nose should be,
the baby with a chin like a raisin,
the bloke with a beard made of baked beans,
the 8-year-old testing the strength of a slide,
the Jack Russell born with hay instead of fur.
Her shoulders are weighing scales.
The sun is her head watching everyone grow.

© Carl Burkitt 2023