107 steps

with cracking knees I’ve bent
down to the street level
to observe what it is
that we’re stepping on each day.

look, here, in the dust between
the feet and their encasing shoes.
patterns of the bliss that
only life likes to arrange,
the jigsaws lacking real edges
and the rawness of their formation.

look here, in the gum and wrappers
the unknown phlegm gobs piling up
in the least of intricate arrangements
the drab and dreary, the mighty mistaken
lack of colour coordination,
the disfiguring dirt crumbles on the pavement.

it’s with this view,
street level and looking upwards,
do I see what every single placement
of one of these long appendages on the ground
really means.

what could be forgotten or thought of
as nothing more than a movement
is actually an impacting moment -
not just where I’m going
but a place where things occur,
like the accumulation of bits of
heaven under our soles.

and every day, and every step,
intensifies the gathering.