The Long-Limbed Oak
There’s a long-limbed woman at the bus
stop each morning. She’s like an oak tree.
Perfect serenity, standing tall and turned
to south from where the bus appears.
She stares solemn and emptied of thought,
a habit perfected over years, and I’m
clearly an object of her deep indifference.
“Found” and remixed text from “Bleak House”
and my diary of January 1991, Bletchingley, Surrey.