memory of a mid-march day, 1999

A walk through fields of blue that softly glow,

Where azure petals stretch toward the sky;

The blossoms sing a gentle lullaby,

Above the tranquil river, deep and slow.

The waters mirror heaven’s face below,

A perfect harmony where shadows lie;

I stand upon the cliff and breathe a sigh,

And watch the timeless currents smoothly flow.

Yet sorrow comes, a truth I cannot flee,

The march of capital is cold and stark;

A new suburban sprawl will soon arise.

This fading song is lost to you and me,

As concrete leaves a grey and hollow mark,

To steal away fair nature's fleeting prize.