First trine, last to shine
indifferent to Time but hell-bent to multiply

It stands by the gallows, the guillotine, the gutter
never a vagrant in the charnel house as corpses hear them and shudder

Feet treading on a tabula rasa
sloth is no sin to them

Hunter-gatherer with no bow
garbage never required pursuit

Yet they scurry when the sun shoots arrows
only their feet hurry

I want to keep two, I said - in a sandalwood box
under my bed, where I keep my idle feet

Idle mice with idle feet, thank heavens when the two meet
they can rest harder when they take a seat

Together