Synthetic Spring

Spring mocks

what cannot live

or be renewed

beneath tired feet

I trample the same taunting weeds

over and over and over again

while recent spirits haunt

lest one forget

my eyesight has blurred

from staring at things so far

too closely

and things I couldn’t see

or chose not to

inflict their menace today and

tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow

I replay your videos

stroking the screen

as cell touches pixel

this is now as close as two worlds come

imprisoned

never colliding

and your boots

that danced the highlands

and held strong as the wild winds swayed

would they sell if I told them they once

hugged feet

that now no longer walk 

among us

outside

I stare at crumpled thistle

my ears leaking future sounds

and among vindictive green

the fractal beat

still

perseveres

leading me to carry on

while natural forces

grow over - wash over - 

these ageing wounds

(April 2021)