In the interrupted tap,
tap and tap,
of your light white cane,
a railing emerges, sounding just-so-tall and hollow;
hard against your wrist,
and familiar in relation to the sudden silent space
beyond the kerb.
Creating now a pool of calm
on Oxford Street
you pause, stand still,
Into your trust,
the world settles,
like the final gurgle of an emptying bath.
Passing sounds separate and subside,
and a nearby Rastafarian takes your arm.
An incident observed from a London bus this morning.