Walking with my two-year-old grandson
Along the avenue by black naked trees
And on thin frosted ground
In the bright winter morning, I showed him
The whiteness of his breath.
The moment could not be undone.
He giggled excitedly at the phenomena,
Hitherto unnoticed which, he gradually realised,
He had an element of control over.
Breath held or expelled.
I had helped make the Natural
Unnatural for him
I thought of this
And everything I’ve written.