Having been to the shops and club
lightly laden with ever more expensive
vegetables, leeks, zuchinis, choy sam
and the like - dusk but still 38 degrees

up the hill I observed the low fences
judging six bricks too high
and five just right,
a little like goldilocks perhaps.

sitting resting briefly on warm bricks
for just a moment or two
every 200 metres or so measured
meticulously by 125 left feet

then resumed to the top
the chattering chittering
of lorrikeets accompanying me
on my unsteady walk.

down the hill and the large frangipani,
fragrant white and yellow flowers
littering the lawn. the seemingly
abandoned ute rear assembly

then the two boats, scraped and scraping
the Riga that has not seen water for years
of which I gently tease the owner
and The Black Beast soon to burble again.

Then home,
the white tea-tree not now blooming