When things get too much for me,
as they often do,
to the garden I go,
to find a blade of grass,
to flick away my woe.
It is hard to explain what flicking is
to people who are not like me.
Picking a ‘flicker’ is an art in itself,
I choose from a sea of possibilities.
It will not do if it does not bend,
or if it is too heavy or too light.
Once I find it, down I sit
and flick away this light.
it is something I can focus on
when my mind is awash with muck.
I twirl and flick my blade of grass
as sticky thoughts become unstuck.
By Glen Sheppard, from Elvis Has Left The Building (2002)