everywhere there are the dances of birds
I am drawn to them.
The birds appear to know that I am watching, I am able to witness something small
Everyone around me appears to walk, drive, cycle past, to pass and not to notice
the three rooks circling together, marking out a space to walk around together, again
the two seagulls stamp on the hill of grass,
stamp
skinny little legs stamping
stamp stamping
the worm dance.
I walk at dusk, follow the light and my legs
back to the water
the vein that defines where my curiosity wants to be
somewhere vivid
of feathers and skin
a little tactile that comes through the film
a touch
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