Dirty from the walk of life

clean socks

flap in the drying wind

Dumb to the audience

a compromise of silent harmonies

unfolds

Realising it's in the frame

my shadow

obligingly waves

Beneath a moment 

since ended

another time begins

allowing the boat 

its usefulness

the tide comes in

 a sawcut's memory

replenished 

by the morning sun

A silent orchestra of trees

             accompany

                          the singing of the bones