A Clean Sweep

I stepped out from beneath the terracotta tile arch into the morning quiet. Days spent in the damp lane and gutter grit had left fine dust caked between my knitted ribs and knee joints. I marched past the iron gate toward the stone terrace steps, seeking clean terrain. Beside a clay planter lay a discarded paintbrush, its stiff boar bristles dry and upright. Grasping the weathered wooden handle, I dragged it across the flat flagstone. Using the firm brush head, I scoured the dried silt from my heel bones and scraped the chalky lane dust clear of my frame. The parrot leaned down, inspecting each clean stroke. Shipshape once more. #Captainbones @amigorumisumi_710