shadows long,
fall on pavement wet
and inside the teetering,
jenga blocks, people reside
in caves opulent and electric.
and green is a colour,
forgotten
and bluesky,
a patchwork quilt,
seen in fractured glimpses,
on the way to and from.
flowers bright and vivid,
come delivered
and earth the thing,
we save by sitting.
in the almost, dark
for an hour a year.
shadows short,
fall on barren ground.
as city dwellers, breathe
grey air and expell
trash and detrius muck
no shadows now
just black all around
no dwellers, no sound....
perhaps we needed to sit
in the almost dark much
longer and love the ground
on which our life is found.
