The walk to school was an obstacle course of death.
The puddles hated him. The rain was clenched fists.
The tree branches were the whips of jellyfish tentacles.

If the wind wasn’t spitting ‘Go away!’ in his face
it was pushing his shivering chest to head back home.
But his feet refused to stop moving his scooter forward.

His forehead headbutted the breeze into oblivion.
His gloved fingers punched doubt in the temple.
His five-year-old body was ten times its size.
All because his dad is too scared to learn to drive.

Carl Burkitt 2026