This Day
By Elizabeth Argall
Biography
Summer by my pool. Feeding fruitcake to hungry fish and
Sam - who sits, tail waging, a bundle of bounds, prances, woofles, snuffles
constrained and contained into sitting to attention, vibrating with
excitement, the thrill of eating fishfood. Fish splash and slurp, suckering
up sultanas and orange peel and flour.
Sitting in the warm, watching the lilies unfold, watching the bees return
home, mouths full of nectar, legs full of pollen. The sky, a clear soft
blue. Watch Sam bound away and prance back again, bound away and prance
back, head covered in a veil of cobwebs, eyes bright, nose dripping,
mouth smiling. See him stare in amazement and frustration at the splashes
of fish, too far away to play with. Prance away again and pounce on
fallen apricots. Chasing them, munching them, spitting out a shining
clean seed, soon a scattering of seeds glossy and damp. Sam belches.
Dances over to me, dances away again. Dried rose petals fall from the
boughs, tangling and falling.
Summer by my pool on this day which is everyday, birds clack and titter, it is time to go inside, or the birds will be too shy to bathe, watching from inside, this pool, this pool which belongs to no one, belongs to itself, to this day, to this place, to the sky reflected. To this day...