Perched upon an eerie
Weaved of golden gorse
Softening the wind’s assault
I survey a feral oasis,
Invaluable.
Moated by a sea of dour brick
Worth billions to somebody.
Undeveloped, but not wild,
The house-cat hill
Is tamely encroached upon.
Bumblebees dodge bottles not yet smashed,
Vaporous terraria in the pale sun
Dregs in the moonlight.
The rustle of brittle shrubs
Antagonised by the breeze
Overlay a chipboard rumble
Of one hundred thousand tin cans
Pumping through arteries
Of urban soup.
Packed like sardines.
Each red cell filled
With the opportunity for life.
I crouch and peer
With condescension
In my temporary elevation
At the city I shackle myself to.
Joe Blogs, 2018