Up, down. Up, down, <br />go his feet as he pedals, <br />pedalling round. <br />Gently rotating, circulating, <br />the children merrily going, <br />children on the merry-go-round, <br />as it’s stopping, slowly, <br />slowing down. <br />Left, right. Left, right, <br />the shoppers shopping in the street <br />making rhythms with their feet. <br />To, fro. To, fro, <br />swinging arms with shopping <br />as they come <br />and then they go. <br />In, out. In, out, <br />the pigeon’s head <br />as he proudly struts about. <br />Waggle. Waggle, <br />tongues are flapping, telling, <br />telling what they think they know. <br />Ba, boom. Ba, boom, <br />beats the heart of the jogger <br />as he jogs past very fast. <br />Flutter. Flutter, <br />the eyelashes <br />of the lovers, <br />as they sit, <br />so close together, <br />staring sweetly, <br />at each other. <br />All the while the Earth <br />It’s turning, spinning. <br />Stars are twinkling, <br />spirals in the heavens forming. <br />All these movements <br />music making, <br />in the stillness of your presence. <br />All these rhythms <br />from your essence. <br />All these actions <br />simply stating <br />your existence is <br />what’s existing, <br />through the unity <br />of all these rhythms <br />which we often take to be, <br />something which belongs to me.<br /><br />David Taylor<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/high-street-rhythms/
