Summer street
A floor tile incarcerating the footstep
Can it be
Let’s just go
Go until exhausted
To go into the field one last option.
Stand still
The forlorn sound of a cricket
The flat rice grain, and
The left-over rice grain
Fall after the bush fire
The trembling of the earth.
Memories etch
The stalled step, and
The mute moment
Death turned out during a night of yearning
Except for him the consolation.