mornings greet us
with lost songs
captured in the wind
directing the rhythm
into our unborn
stagnant ears
(maybe we should have
listened before)
the countryside
backyard lake
lays frozen, but
not cold
forever still in
melodies of droughts
finally deciding
to breathe in the
worldly air, I
greedily take breathes
upon inhales
before realizing
this is nothing but
the city
playing tricks
with false tranquility...





4 old applause
