Spring Comes to The North

there is water everywhere,

water the colour of tea,

water dripping over rocks, over moss, 

water running to the sea, 

sANCTUARY, 

balance...

as the roads dry, the dust rises

- a sandy cloud, traces of salt 

and powdered dog turds.

the more i walk around here, 
the more i realize that walking

is not The Done Thing.

it's benchless.

basically. 

anyone who wants one

will find 

themselves 
cemetery 

bound. 

anything of importance here,

anything of real value involves

an internal combustion engine.

-tbc-

.