I wake up and there are strange leaves in my bed
I have not been in nature
I have been walking the city bemused
And the seasons course around
and what do I have to show for it?
a holy relic here
a discarded berry laying on a fence post
holiest sanctuary
the posterior vanes all slurry and water washed in the grey surf
a jar filled with the curving koru shells
white and delicate
how I mourned ways
and how I coursed through the fields all whiplash and sullen silence
sometimes the sunset emerges triumphant
sometimes hesistant on the road back
when I am driving
which I said I wouldn't
I was emphatic
and the road coarses and passes by
the patience of this time
the days of heaviness in the fields
all around turning to haystacks
without the rural idyll
cast it off
it has no need for you
There I was
temporarily Apollo
on the quad bike aflame
my bedsheets a trammel
sand falling everywhere
my body darkened in the sun and hardened
and the weight of the confusion
is the heaviest of sunsets
curving around
and placed into a jar