resolutions and wheelbarrows of shit
My internet connection is woeful.
Typing to you is trying.
Kids are trying.
With a clenched brow
And a baby chewing at my breast
I am trying to relax.
And it’s like pushing a leaking wheelbarrow of shit uphill.
Which is why with nerves,
And no polish I bring you this:
Me in the school park trying to collect pine cones and my thoughts.
Whilst mothering (they’re the yelly bits):