I walk fast through the blue city so I cannot see the sky or what grows around me or what is beneath my feet,
except when I trip and look down with umbrage at the small, loose brick that has betrayed me.
Then I am off again. Nearly running somewhere I don’t want to go or have to be on time getting there.
I slow when I pass the graveyard where babies lie with lambs on their graves.
So quiet I can’t help but breath loudly, to make a sound of the living among so many dead. And at this time the trees are dead, too, and I wonder if the birds wait in evergreens or the buried miss their song.