by Jennie Carr

I use the blade of a screwdriver to prise off
the lid of the tin; a soft pop releases
vapours of solvent and resin. I stir with a stick
dip the brush and sweep over the boards
in long strokes. The liquid soaks into the grain
easily absorbed: soon it will harden
under the skin. I’m thinking, as I lash it on,
that if those far-off thunder clouds of late
summer days such as this, should suddenly
rumble in, I could shelter inside the shed –
and if it got really rough I could stay for winter
safe in its woody warmth: with weathershield walls
and single view to the west I’d be content
to break bread with the birds when they come to my sill.