There you go
floating through brick walls,
swallowing the dirt,
walking with a thousand limps,
agreeing with the leaves,
selling honey to the bees,
teaching the sky it is alive.
There’s a tortoise in the garage
thinking about its day in the garden.
Its shell is softer than it realises,
its head forgets
it will one day be a mountain.

© Carl Burkitt 2021

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s