A regular slight thunk
on the down beat,
slight flourish
on the rebound,
impressions added
to a sandy path’s patina,
I switch to silent footfalls,
a technique perfected
after reading a book
called Two Little Savages.
Feel your way forward
without hesitation,
slight variations
in the temperature of the air
that brushes your nostrils
inwards and out again.
Pelicans fly in formation,
their profiles
an uneasy reminder
of pterodactyls hunting.
Silent walking abandoned,
I tread bravely
on stepping stone dapples,
lichen colonies on dead wood
catch the light, make lime green
ridges and valleys out of grey bark
– will they hear the tree fall
when the wind blows hard?
Follow the shadow stones,
trace the curves and the camber;
a slight rise in the path
a swift flash of pink
on a fence frantically waving,
somebody’s skirt left behind,
the leaves whisper insistently,
thoughts sail up to the untimely moon.
Blue throws blueness
along a horizon …
I unfurl and breathe,
the white sun
shall be eclipsed,
obstructed by a tree,
as mackerel clouds
swim serenely
I stand right here
where the earth
kisses the expanding sky.
Heel rolls to toe
balanced on four points,
next foot now,
erasing previous steps,
as uplifting rebounds
ripple through the galaxies.
Marousia 