It is only in the soulless cities
Where the roads are an even grid. Where
The houses look the same, where it is easy
To get lost.
If you must run after the sunshine
Do it on the grass. The warm yellowness
Brings the thaw, cuts your sleep and
The dust-devils go round like dervishes,
Scattering color as you blink your eyes.
Following the water brings you to yourself,
Throat dry after play, after wandering.
22 May 2018
Copyright 2018 Mona Caccam