Flute

sound cuts through the midsummer air like a sharp knife cutting a cucumber the chanting begins Sitting here on the Lower East Side I listen to a mystical recording Peace in the urban scene is not always easy to find But with the sound of a flute and a nice volume of verse I have made this evening in the asphalt homeland something to remember Some days are like exploding fireworks Some are like dripping molasses This evening the sound from my stereo reaches outside my window A stranger passing by may pause for a moment and be taken away by the power of the flautist.