From thorns and thistles

In the sweat of our faces

We eat daily bread

If I close my eyes

Will the world still be out there?

It’s inside my mind

An abandoned egg

Precariously balanced

Left out in the cold

Hanging from a branch

Complete, unending and whole

Until the winds blow

Grasses bend their heads

Under scorching summer sun

These days are the days

In these cool waters

Relinquished, revitalised

Still stand sure stand still