Two old favourites

The Bus That Didn’t Show

I am sitting on a bench beside crumpled newspaper
Underneath orange sodium streetlight glow
Filling myself with coffee warmth from a battered thermos
And the sights and sounds of the city.

There is a guy wobbling his bicycle along the road –
A vacant smile smudged across his stubble,
And a learner driver squeaking her mirror
Before driving away cautiously.

I laugh out loud at the concrete left behind
It looks sort of funny sitting there on its own,
But also sad.

I go back to the crossword.

Leaf Collection Therapy

Brushing leaves I feel the rustle,
As each one meets the bristles,
And drags merrily across the patio.

I thank someone for this hour
Of time forgotten and the innocent
Piling of tree debris makes me forget that I am

Here. I am here brushing leaves
Into little piles
And not somewhere else.