In the darkness,,
there is a  moth
cloying its wooly way up through the cottage thatching

but there's no cottage

just a an imaginative open space,
where perception descends heavily upon the eyes.

or the feelers.

missing pieces get picked up by the police,
as a giant scrawny bunch of cats cradle players summon both sun and rain.

Taking their ticket on the train,
leaving the rest to their own.

As it should be.

But how I have scrounged over the years, completely departed from intimacy
and seeking personal compensation from material objects.

How nice, I think it would be, for that to change.

Amen Lord.