Footless and unfree
We all found ourselves
singing out of tune
in a vacuum

Both blasphemed and blessed
but delighted by the quietness
we reached the end of plentiness
a place of neither fullness nor emptiness

drizzles down to the ground
sprinkles all around
manic energetic eagles and doves
sweating droplets from above

The seasons were green
thankfully
if it were wintry
we’d have climbed trees

Rats running from the race
carving out personal space
to be alone on their own
in ‘no go’ zones

Sean Hunt