Under Foot

Glass parts and ash
Trodden under foot-
their shards Sharp
and Shining
three
dimensional
spectrums
scattered; Chaos
round the ground.
But if you flip its’
view - or stare
down from
ceiling, nestled even
Higher in high
woodwork. And
imagine darkness,
or let night engulf;
that when moon-
light falls through
in charted pathways.
Then stars illumine
ground,

for dust to lay an image
of milky-way

Under Foot

                watch again,
Even
in sun-shine-
day-time. the dust
let float, adrift
undisturbed it
spins slow Slow
cyclic rythme.
Specks light and
dancing this dreamwork
woodwork, dark
and growing soft - it
is damp sometimes.
Their woody patterns
etched in
arguments, that tremor up
from earthy granules
and mud.
Not ‘vacant’, surely?
It sounds in
flutters and reverberations-
not yet
deserted; too deep resonates
the noise of deep set
lungs

(too secret for our frequent sound)