Limits

If there was

a narrative to my life

in those years, then

let this

be the sound of it-

the season in, season out

sound of

the grind of

my neighbour's shears:

beautiful air of august

music of limitation, of

the clipped

shadow and

the straightened border

of the rain on the hills,

of the children sleeping in

a simpler world:

an iron edge

the origin of order