I’m not here. I’m here. 

I’m not here,

I’m here.

Bike slowly rolling down the hill

Watching the yellow changing, golden changing fields

and it’s bales and it’s bright blue cloud dotted backdrop

and it’s stick figures.

I’m smiling at summer’s last swallows

Waving at cats lazing in driveways

Laughing down roads marked ‘unsuitable for motor vehicles’

Eating sandwiches on hilltops, by fence posts, on stiles.

In short – I’m not here.

I’m here.