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.