It's a Sunny Spring Day

I swing down Byangum Road,
swooping around the hilly bends

which are now familiar.

Can it be so long already

I’ve lived this side of town?

My friend’s new house,

eight minutes away,

is at the top of a hill

in a quiet cul-de-sac

lined by tranquil trees.

I don’t drive down

to park in her garage.

The next door neighbour

is getting new furniture in.

There wouldn’t be room.

I pass her driveway, turn

in the wide end of the street

where the school yard begins,

deserted on Saturday afternoon,

come back to stop by her fence.

Later, when she sees me out,

the slim old man, her neighbour,

comes across to greet me, hesitates.

“Have I met you?’ he says.

I explain briskly, smiling.

I drive home by Riverview.

A bright, slender, yellow gorse

interrupts the evergreens.

She texts me, “What did you think?

Should I be setting boundaries?”

I tell her, ”He was confused.

I remember my Dad like that

in the very early stages.” 

I arrive at the top of my own hill,

my own tree-lined cul-de-sac.

31 Poems in 31 Days (Poewar / Writer's Resource Center). Prompt: Place