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.
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