real work

And they run…arms pumping, legs spinning, head down. They are pleased with the result –
the profile, the surge, the feeling, the momentum.

Until they stop.

A gnarled stick, a purple flower, a mushroom to kick.

A tree stump spilling over with soggy, punky fibres.


Use the stick, saw the tree stump.  “I cut down tree Mama!” Eyes shine, face beams.

Concentrate now. This is work – real work, a true purpose.


Until…


”Whoa! Look at this! A bridge! That tree made a bridge!”


Wheels turning. I can do that. I can do that. Using stick for balance, carefully placed feet.


“Careful sweet pea – the mossy spots are slippery.”


“What’s moss?”


And then.


“I did it! I’m standing on the bridge!”