signs of humanity

By the by-lanes whipping through
the city the walkers saunter and stroll,
parading past vacant eyes
looking upon families of fours. The plumage
of such exotic birds bears no electric colours
or blooming feathers, just little sandaled-feet
and slight touches of fingertips.

By the pebbles and stone-fragments
lie white dogs and a black wolf
amidst scampering rodents who dare
scuttle by the fingertips of pensive men
with vacant eyes. A misheard siren
in the distance forces the baying
of wolves and a sudden silence imposed by the quiet of the other few.

The signs of humanity stretch
past the cobbled side-walk: the buttends of days
and nights waiting for a fresh breath
within the bags that contain our separate lives.
The churning of wheels loses itself by the seaside,
the breakers stumbling towards the insurmountable
walls of our walking feet.