I’m passing a car that is the colour of sky overhead,
a chunk fallen from above,
if I look up there’ll be a gaping hole.
New spring leaves on trees
delicate and damp, just uncurled and poking out.
A phone battery on the floor.
Cigarette ends litter the street more than leaves.
Coots and people running in the park.
A Cabbage White butterfly, Pieris Rapae
flutters, jerking puppet on a string.
Willow Trees sag onto the path
A railing suspends a bike.
Difference between weeds and designated plants
Cultivation and purification.
Gentle throb of Narrowboats moving on the canal.
When you hear the sound of a hammer, it’s always the same pace and rhythm,
never frenzied or slow,
like the satisfactory ticking of a clock,
or the uniformed way we all swing our arms.