A Reflection from Everyday Life

Easter evening: 4/17/2022. It is a city without the limits of time

and the laurels of accomplishment. It is the end of the day, and

you’re left with nothing but the sunlight on your hair. You went

away, and things changed very little. The population became

botany, and all the cells wanted to become flowers. If you weren’t

budding, you were not becoming. The city lifts its air and lets the

stars dot the mountaintops. Reputations are mere commerce, and

everything seems meant for your use in a park of examples. You

become a sculpture floating in air, reclined to the city’s edges. The

lights chatter while, tonight, the enchanted borough sleeps

by Lawrence Bridges