Concrete River
Once again to the concrete river.
A scrap of bread in my hand for the ducks.
Coco foraging into the green slopes.
And the web of the world settles down onto the city.
The day’s direction settling into the groves of concrete.
We will meet this person. Miss someone else. The phone will ring.You might not answer.
The lines of other lives criss-crossing yours.
Plants in the window box. Up just a little bit. A little more green from the ground. Deciding their path up.
And you make tea and prepare.
Prepare for the everyting and the nothing of it all.
It sweeps past and then another day.
Down to the concrete river.
