Everyman’s Tune

Everyman’s Tune

The Wednesday moon shone, 
an arcadian, little silence 
following our inmost prayers, 
we linger out there, bare-souled, 
under the dusky silhouette, 
bright smoke on ink, we whisper 
to each other that all this? 

It’s free for the taking.

Every bit of mad, raw delight, 
bursts, a cold orange slice 
of explosive life, joy 
for the sturdy of heart 
and the weak-kneed.

The commonplace way 
the air of peasants and kings, sings, 
a simmered curry, stirred tender, 
with notes of lime and coriander 
that advance us courage 
to give away gold, to choose less, 
to stare in awe at verdant canopies 
that rise up, resolute, to bless.