Friday, May 09, 2008


Washing spinach in the sink

while birds were singing outside

sent his mind down streets of satisfaction.

He strolled past bushes in bloom,

past cars that came from paradise,

past polite trees in their spring dresses.

The streets were singing

songs of strength,

and all the birds

were bright soldiers of independence

while the spinach

was shining under the fresh water.

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