Supreme being amounts to nothing

Peddle harder it will amount

To nothing more than

Fox holes

Underground warrens

Your being set in motion set in time

Where was I today

In yesterday’s time mill

Churned on its spokes

I thought

We cannot be still

Here among the wood chippings, the discarded cans that say Zwiec and Tyske

To frozen feet.

“in the call of conscience what is that is talked about”

Do not answer that question

The answer may lie hidden somewhere in the wrecked pale light

The freezing pond surrounded by silver birch trees

The truest colour of my despair

Silver

Is a dog response to it

Those retractable leads forwards and back lead

Tea time thoughts to distract at a fern 

Near the coffee hut

A latter day Todnauberg