Quiet Stuff

I walk past the shops,

someone drops a pie.

Birds flap near the bins,

I don’t really care.

At school I sit near the wall,

phones out, people talk.

I look at the trees,

they don’t move much.

There’s bugs in the dirt,

leaves on the ground.

No one sees them,

but they’re still there.

Sydney’s busy and loud,

but quiet stuff is all around.

You just have to stop,

and maybe look down.