traffic murmur distant hot breath
and silver plane drone warning
stalk the weaving tree top wind
garden 5 pm
the summer tries
the cat is a tinsel edged shadow
nose up
smelling the bird song
behind the rosemary fence
smoking blunt word neighbours scrape patio chairs
and click and flick cigarette lighters
loud pause before supper
my bare feet/work tired/like dumb hands
stretch and curl and make fists
in long spear grass and sudden daisy forests
. . . wonder if its true that magnetic forces
realign
when bare feet touch the earth
like
the
weird hippies
say
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