<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The Buzz<\/strong><\/p>\n From ten or so metres away there is nothing, But if you step <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Jack Houston<\/strong> works for the public library service in Hackney and plays drums with Bugeye. Other work can be found online at The Morning Star, London Grip, New Boots & Pantisocrasies <\/em>and the London Journal of Fiction<\/em>.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" The Buzz From ten or so metres away there is nothing, just the rustle of the wind through the grass, the occasional whoop of a distant teen on the basketball court, the rattle and squeak in the murmuration of nearby starlings, the hum of a ride-on mower cutting its path through the […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-12267","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12267","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=12267"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12267\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":12269,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12267\/revisions\/12269"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=12267"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=12267"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=12267"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\njust the rustle of the wind through the grass,
\nthe occasional whoop of a distant teen
\non the basketball court, the rattle and squeak
\nin the murmuration of nearby starlings,
\nthe hum of a ride-on mower cutting its path
\nthrough the grass, the exotic sounding chatter
\nof budgerigars making its way from elm to plane.<\/p>\n
\ncloser, step
\nright
\nunderneath
\neach evenly
\nspaced halo
\nof pale blossom,
\nyou can hear the
\nhum, feel the
\nvibration of
\neach wing’s
\nquick sweep,
\nsee the bees
\nflying
\nfrom flower
\nto
\nflower.<\/p>\n