My Poems from March 2005
Growing in a grid of wire,
Rarely reach their fate by fire,
Sprouting from cemented ground,
Blowing blossoms all around,
Squirrels sequestered in their limbs,
Birds so brightly sing their hymns,
Pretty pictures everywhere,
Framed in fences here and there.
Cities seal their beauties in
Manacles all made by men.
Vistas viewed by distant gazes
Cannot completely save their faces.
For man has made, and walled, and strung
So stars themselves, though highly hung,
Are lesser lights than long ago
Through city smog and lights below.
March 9, 2005