#822 - Blackbutt

 

5.iv.22

822

3.95

Blackbutt

 

morning and no one’s there

not even the breeze

roads keep to their distance

 

sleep was in everything

until set out on foot

 

ground soft, webs fresh

here’s grass high from the recent falls

moss where otherwise rarely

 

here’s the novelty sun

leaning to

wonderfully else

 

stop, become a mozzie cloud

everything is lit

 

keep moving

 

a riot in the rooftops then

rhythm footfall

 

in turn shone so

 

the shadows are all fallen