[L] (iii)

the fountain at ten metre
white both colour and noise

sometimes underneath
the sneer of a car

the low medievel
chant of a plane

under this gazebo
the rain can’t touch

the wind might tickle
a newspaper to walk
into the green and grey

now the phone reader has left
i’m alone in the park

this first day of autumn
is gorgeous

like the moorhen
the newspaper passed