They arrived at the break of the day,
men and women, to the highland
with the slow, silent, vigilant pace
of sowers of wheat.
And they were looking for something that wasn’t there
between the dumping ground and the railroad
And they were looking for what wasn’t there
behind the police’s binoculars
and they folded their hands and eyes in the wind
before leaving.
All the way to the road and surrounded by the night
they arrived from the highland
men and women with the intent gaze
of sowers of wheat.
And they left what wasn’t there
to the dumping ground and to the railroad.
And they left what wasn’t there
to the tearing eyes of the police
and they stretched out their hands against the wind
that was carrying them away