They tussle to straddle the carousel’s best seats; excitement mounts as they anticipate the music.
The wind picks up apace; melodic notes sough as it propels the ride towards a gusting gyration.
The carousel owner folds the washing; smiles as she observes the fluttering exhilaration. They only ride when the wind blusters, spindly limbs barely able to cling on as they whirl around.
Their glee escalates, swelling the musical crescendo.
“Caw…cheep… squawk,” feathers tousled by the wind, the birds savour every rotation of the empty clothes hoist.