A barrow is wheeled into place.

Sparrows the colour of buckwheat.

Two neat runners of treated pine

Sleepers, more broadly divine

The intentions of the day.

Scurrilous cross-hatching lies sketched

At each unpicked hem of reinforcing for

The concrete marrow therein.

What we need now is a fine load of sand –

Which we’ll collect from the arc

Of the river which is but a

Quick trip in the khaki green corolla,

Already equipped with

A shovel and Pepsi, the dog, who

Can’t wallow enough in the

Last of the puddles –

to finish the driveway in time.