Buttery

I shook pebbles from the sky
as if to make a last bastion stand
in defence of freedom.

Who was I kidding?
They’d already fenced-in the clouds
and the trees had long since resorted
to a lateral kind of growing. 

When I was offered the chance
to touch my imagination – it was glassy smooth.
(Washed-up matter, detritus, purposeless grass).
I didn’t trust any of it for water.

-

I didn’t trust anything for water.
Purposeless grass, detritus.  

Washed-up matter touched my imagination
until it was glassy smooth. The chance
offering of a lateral kind of growing?

But the trees had long since resorted
to fencing in the clouds.  

Who was I kidding
in defence of freedom?
As if to make a last bastion stand,
the sky shook pebbles from me.