psychogeography 2

one hour later still listening 
to the tree rustle and watching 
grey clouds over passing 
kite glide and soft rains gentle touch 

breeze breathing dry leaves 
rolling dancing over the weedy tarmac 
campanula dandelion forget me not
magpies rattle distant and near sounding 

repeating resonating the air sky chamber 
as a pencil softs the grey lines 
inviting transformation from passive to active 
in the gaze of the last red nasturtium