trespass
two paces off
the path and
inside the cloistered
trees /
the brindled hare
steps his paddles
from the free
earth’s edge and
into the governed
bracken /
you belong to
my two barrels
says the keeper
their two round
eyes will watch
you through nettles
and brakes and
bushy hollows right
up to my
privileged moment and
your reckoning /
and here we are
we two
you crazy free
me creeping across
the fallen leaves
a poacher sans
traps lifting only
the mushrooms picking
only the berries
breathing just the
loaded air and
its traffic of
loam and pine
pitch and the
musk of deer /
for my time
along the aisles
and trancepts of
these oaks and
beeches i shall
pay nothing owe
nothing care nothing
for your deeds
and contracts because
just as i
own my bones
my salts my
neural tracks so
these trees and
their partner shrubs
and brambles and
the passengers who
tread and slip
and scramble own
themselves as is
told in the
encyclopaedia of all
time from alpha
to this green
glyph right here
and now /
and i am
happiest right here
and now and
I will prevail
amongst the trees
in my time
sisyphus 
Has a dramatic edge to it. Given your job, do you ever feel moved to write plays?
I’ve had a go once or twice, but have struggled with dialogue-only narrative. I keep meaning to try again, but the poetry tests my self-discipline more than enough!