or amber, or cerulean.
Birdsong wafts in humid air,
or silence resonates through
tombs, parched and empty.
We all lived together once,
collaborating to create paradise,
but those people wanted cities
tall enough to scratch the sky,
and those people meadows
untouched and wide. Soon, we
divided
our gatherings smaller
and smaller and
smaller, until the last
pair quarreled over
whether toads should croak
solemn bassoon solos
or blurt out bright
like wailing trumpets.
We have been
too long alone.
Come. Sit with me.
I'll give you lilac-scented forests if
you give me the taste of strawberries
tumbling fresh on summer breeze.
Our sunsets can burn emerald,
and gravity tug like a child
anxious and loving at our feet.
As for the rest,
whether we should have a god,
construct communities or reward
good fortune with applause–
let us leave those arguments
to other days. For now,
let us sit together
and recall the benevolent
joy of companionship.
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