Suliman

Suliman dug.
He broke the ground
with slow batter thuds
of his spade with no sweat
no effort quite effortlessly
and made progress through the day.

And Suliman
never looked away but always
added an extra push to his shovel
whenever some noise, some bird
song or squeal, was heard
far off or near to his digging.

But Suliman,
once, almost turned away
to look and stare, quite curious
of the fall of new picks digging
cascading, an arpeggio of thuds
like his but gone astray

putting Suliman
off his rhythm; their syncopated
descent into the earth disturbed him
but still, with extra force, he dug
and broke that ground of his
while others broke their own.

Sad Suliman.
Disturbed, he rattles his spade
at end of day in the back of his van
and thinks echoes of the rhythm
not his but others and different to his.

.