it seems cool, outside

god is falling in the rain,

growing trees are humble,  

 

just the breath of two sparrows

no songs, no light flute

from the pidgeon cut from stone;

none of it ever gets old. 

 

Space will simply sit around,

ageing until its filled.

 

The silence within the cat arrives,

they sit and stare 

from where there once seemed nothing, 

 

the opening of a door removes them both,

and that space is born again

younger and fresher

for its moment joining in 

with the rest of us, 

joining in.