Spring in the driveway

Sun dances on the driveway
which simmers under the unexpect baking
having emerged from its cosy ice blanket
just a week ago. The air is summer warm
Pappa in his tee shirt is vacuuming the car mats
gives one a whack against the foundation
dust from winter boots puffs off the cement
he disappears head first into the back seat
the corrugated hose snakes between his knees
his rump sways with the noisy effort
maps a few mini trucks his plastic ice scraper
tumble out onto the asphalt. He turns off the vacuum
street sounds bird calls return so stark,
alarming after winter’s muffling snow
a few twitchy dark dry sticks of last summer’s columbines
stand mute in the spectator gallery along the foundation
it strikes me that I might get my bike out
you want to help get me the car keys
he takes them and moves the car carefully
clear of the house. Exhaust fumes perfume
the driveway with their acrid rubbery mist.
He drags the garden hose out of the garage
fights the stiff tangled coils spreads it along the pavement
turns it on the leaks sprout arcs just miss drenching
two passing oblivious bare-shouldered beauties
but spray a jovial gent who finds it refreshing
that was refreshing he says smiling
soon the car is drenched lathered rinsed and chamoised
and we are out admiring it Momma in her slippers
on the driveway I giggle Momma in her slippers
on the driveway in March Pappa giggles
on the driveway in March I wonder about my bike
supper is ready maybe tomorrow
it snows next day.

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About riverwriter

Poet, playwright, duplicate bridge player, website designer, cottager, husband, father, grandfather, former athlete, carpenter, computer helper for my friends, theatre designer, backstage polymath, retired teacher of highschool English, drama, art, a baritone singer in a barbershop quartet, who knows what else? wordcurrents is on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/wordcurrents/ Doug also has a Facebook page, "Incognitio", related to his novels.
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