As sun strikes and a white wall
Stays put in shadows of hedge.
Cricket stories abound in there.
Grass replicates the past words
On bare feet to earth, cracked
Like mind in a nothing’s duress.
The body re-thinks own stories
Physical stories mired in words.
Stories are just words of things
Under long lying stones in sun.
They are crickets creaking under
Vague stones lying in the grass.