I'm sitting under a shade tree.
Car doors open and close around me. A bird
Climbs up and down the branches of the
Twisted oak above my head
Brakes squeal and I smell exhaust fumes.
Owners are taking down their displays for the night.
The Christmas lights on the leafless trees lining main street
Come on, covering up their nakedness.
That bird is still whistling.
And I smile at the beautiful rhythm of life.