The five year old climbs
the stile with her mother
and walks across the school field
towards where
the microphone man
talks to the children at lunchtime.
She has heard his electric voice echo
over the fence for months
and looks forward
to seeing his face
with excited anticipation.
Today is her day.
Under her new white shoes
is the moist autumn grass
with the dew of the day
hanging in feathery clutches
amongst the tiny spider web homes.
It is a long way across the field.
She counts 126 spider web homes
before her mind flits to the sky.
She looks at the clouds
with the secret knowledge
that they are the bones
of dead animals, and she
sees the spine of a dinosaur.
30 April 2006
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