Kind-eyed cattle dogs chasing grass-whipped shoes

A morning chorus of sheep, rusty gates

And the childlike cheer at spotting rabbits

Pinched cheeks and frozen fingers

Lungs panting in chilled air

Running fast and distracted into gran’s pink rose bush

And making snowmen out of dried grass,

Left in clumps dumped by the lawnmower,

Found wet from last nights frost

Leaving fairy wrens for city scapes

Knowing time will take us back again

Why do parts of the self rest?

After the coming and going through different cities and towns

Why do parts of the self wake up again?

Like gold-flakes sinking in a jar of water

Erratically rattled, spinning and swirling

Birds rising and resting after a fired gun

What parts of you are asleep right now?

Until the other places that know your naked soul

Call you back and wake you up again