Carries seeds

He carries letters like seeds in the wrong pocket.
They slip past each other before they can grow.
His book waits, open as morning.
The words keep changing their minds.

Outside, a weaverbird finishes what it starts.
He traces the page with one careful finger.
His mother says, "Read again. Slowly."
The mango tree keeps its shade for both of them.
He smiles when one small sentence stays still.
Tomorrow, he will come back for the rest.