Mango and ango poemy

Chop, lift, place.

Not hard, nor tedious, steady paced leisure-labour, he saws another piece for its place; a wooden garden bed for he and his--

Chop:
A little boy, rake-thin over the bathroom sink, chops sections of curling hair from himself to make himself more /him/-self. Someone warm sees, recognises, /loves/, and lets curls fall without complaint.

Lift:
The sun, and then blocked out; a little boy eclipses it, thrown high and giggling as gravity thumps him down and into the arms of someone warm. Laughter in a treasured chest, safe even when lifted to the sky.

Place:
The living room becomes lived in, the kitchen graced with dirty dishes placed lazy after long meals. A little boy who knows many things objectively, and someone warm who makes a place a home.

Chop, lift, place.

"Son," Magnus calls, and Angus comes running with a skip in his step that has both of them giggling at the newness of it.

Giggles turn to gasps turn to teary eyes when Angus sees why Magnus has called him. A garden bed, finished, holding a range of vegetables-to-be and herbs Magnus hopes to be useful for magic.

Angus runs a hand through choppy curls. Lifts his arms, wanting, and places a foot on the sturdy wood frame of their new veggie patch. Magnus accommodates, and pulls a little boy into big, warm arms.