(They paved paradise…)
That which in nature appears to disappear
under tons of concrete laid down here,
called a street;
could just as easily have welcomed more
of a semblance to twigs and leaves, a forest floor
beneath my feet.
The bones of my shins would certainly smile,
(if such are able) while all the while
not moving mouth;
but spring away from earth with every step
a broad pedestrian grin, a nymph-light trip, adept,
being without…
A sidewalk or any pavement below my foot
a veritable free-born lover of dirt, a root,
if you will.
With no trunk or limb or leaf to wear,
a voiceless barefoot truant, passing there
quite still.
