|Jul/Aug 2013 Poetry Special Feature|
Digital artwork by Adam Ferriss
nothing has changed,
neither the construction of nightfall
nor the command of sunrise.
And yet I walk on a path to nowhere,
I watch a park warden scape fallen leaves,
children splash on a water-slide
created by a pipe burst in a narrow lane,
admire pansies in a blue chain
along well kept verges,
hear laughter from council workers
as they share the amusement of camaraderie.
Too much joy is hard to take
while this spur in my side is a barbed reminder.