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Sunday Evening in Gallup Park
Sunday evening in Gallup Park the sun was setting, warm and pretty breezes, gentle and refreshing, but
I could not find my swans no fish jumping no birds singing no ducklings playing not to say the trace of that great eagle
There were only crowds eating, drinking, smoking, shouting, and a poor dragonfly, its body clinging to a twig, trembling in terror a baby squirrel, retreated between tree branches, looking uneasy disgusted by an algae mat, even the river has stopped breathing
Wherever humans pullulate, life ceases to be alive my heart cried, tearless |
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