Town And Country (Poetry)

Living on the edge of green —
one foot in the country
one in town
the best and worst of both it seems
yet neither fish nor fowl.
Unclassified to type —
no townie, me
nor product of the farm community
I’m on the fence —
my heart sings in the trees
but also beats to rhythms of
the city’s streets.

A half-caste, then — a mongrel who’s
at home among the red-brick working class.
I’m gazing out the window
at the pigeons in the rain
and imagine walking barefoot through
rough fields-akin-to-jungle of
long grass.