All is not Quiet
a meth-worn man mows the corner block lawn
a cumulus cloud milks the horizon to the sky
the rats are bated now
All is not quiet
this morning
all is not well
the grevillea grew over the cement slab
Its shallow roots happily starved
and fuchsia blooming
I listen for the wattle bird- new here,
mottled and mewing
drinking
The thing that grew