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.


"bright smoke on ink" is perfect.
So vivid, Charissa! And true. I love it!