Poetry (Day 189): Barbecue

barbecue-1308904_640.jpg

       Barbecue

The kids are playing
a rowdy game
that will soon get out of hand.
But we let them go
just so we can sit
and talk
a while longer.

Paper plates are still
on the table and
the barbecue still
smells of marinade
and steak.

The kids shout and
a storm of cockatoos
burst from the trees,
as the long afternoon
drifts away towards night.

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