There was a time I walked oppressed
Manhattan streets as the bleat
of sirens seared into the caverns of my chest.
But the buildings left in sweet retreat
as sunlight strains would flirt
and shift in breezy midday heat.
There were trees and dirt and paths from bears
that molded the ground in spring migration.
It was quiet as light and shadow played in concert.
I sat on a boulder in the glacial formation
while maple leaves played a nest
of flute-like tunes in a song of heaven’s narration.
Year:
2012
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