my soul barely sings
it rasps uneasily
like geese slowly lifting up
across murky water
webbed feet pedalling
on a wind rippled lake

hidden in the dark
folds of the city
nature squeezed
between concrete slabs
peeping out as weeds
or a scavenging ginger fox

beyond the disposable
plastic landfill routine
life thirsts and splutters
a ****** straw
in an empty pastic cup
rattling the final drops

in my dreams I have heard
celestial choirs
fanfares for men
framed in golden wreaths
too high for my grasping
hands to reach