resolutions and wheelbarrows of shit

 

My internet connection is woeful.

Typing to you is trying.

Kids are trying.

With a clenched brow

And a

Knitted jaw

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):

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