Here, the birds
and the trees thrive.
Old men still
cast their nets,
with holy doves
in each breath.
Every moment
consonant with
the sun and moon .
Even the dust can settle,
unhindered by
dancing slum lords.
If not for this fine gladness,
a new main drag.
You, and I…..
Are not meaning,
or promise…..
And sooner or later,
a new passion
and caress.