I come here late, hospital pyjamas,

was it body or brain paralysis

that kept me there, tired

lace curtains drawn.



I lay as a child, arm high

tracing patterns and bows,

thinking in the wind,

when there is no wind?



to the door i find

earth smell, light rain

and music from the overflow.

little toads still hazard,

everywhere, everywhere.



i warned you yesterday,

tread very gently my dears