Early morning dew
January 23, 2011 § Leave a comment
It’s only early but even now, when the dew’s still heavy on the grass and the sun’s only been up an hour and a half, there’s a palpable sense of the heat that midday will bring.
The playground is empty save for a ginger tomcat padding home from a night of fights and easy loving. There’s never anyone here at 7am. The mothers might come down later with pushchairs, have a guilty cigarette whilst their toddlers crash into each other on the soft matting, and then later, after school, the village kids will be creaking and swooping on the swings and the tired old roundabout. They say the teenagers are still hanging round in the evenings for want of something better to do, adding to the graffiti and experimenting behind the climbing frame with the possibilities of sex and alcohol. No-one’s seen them for a week or two, mind – word is they’ve moved up to behind the church where it’s not overlooked by the council houses and that sour old bugger with the Alsatian and the short temper.
The swings hang motionless in the clear morning air, and that fresh layer of moisture that coats the seats doesn’t come close to dampening the memory of yesterday and any day before, of bodies soaring back and forth along an axis, every time snatching for the sun that sits high and proud above the valley.