in the suburb’s relentless stride
towards ordinariness, there forms
a community of shrubby weavers
replacing quietness with the sound
of greenness. oblivious to me,
to the station-walkers plodding
to work, to shifting sighs, worn
lines, our restless minds
we disappear
from their continuity, their patch
pristine even as our feet drag heavily,
borers on another’s ground
Copyrighted by the author
