Carpooling Count the puddles on the walk to school. One, two jump! From the zebra crossing with the other mothers breeze through to the blue-black wrought iron gates where he waits – always on time quarter to nine. His hat comes off when he spots you bobbing with the crowd, runs his hand to smooth his hair with a big smile and a bright good morning. Swap small talk about the weather, the clocks that went back. Kick through fallen leaves in burning crimson, fire, mocha. How are the kids? Side by side, you sit and slam shut the noise out with the clicking of seat belts. You’re in. He’ll grin when you pull a quick three-point turn a careful hand placed on your knee fingers laced at the glowing amber light slow down and stop at the red. Bop to the beat as the light turns green – Dua Lipa - Levitating. Gail Sheridan
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