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alternate realities by Claire Burnett

Some people don’t know what it is like to sleep without the rumble
of traffic through the night
Other folk might be restless without a river rushing past
Some people only know air that tastes of diesel

Other folk don’t know the comfort of stepping outside on a moonless night, unable to see your hand before your face
They have no inkling, that the stars are more luminous and prolific in the country, or that the full moon casts shadows where there are no streetlamps

Some folk might never have heard a sheep cough or looked a deer in the eyes, picked sloes or know how to tell a yellow stainer from an edible
Other folk forage from supermarket skips
Some people chuck out more food than other people can afford in a week

I have never seen a fox in this small city
I don’t bump into badgers on dark nights
I rejoice at the rustle of beech leaves in suburbia
Find a moment of darkness after the street goes to bed, glimpse Jupiter from the yard