Skyscrapers emerge like great stalagmites Their tops wreathed in mist Streets cobweb like the veins of a leaf People are talking, laughing, yelling In English, French, Russian Not everyone understands one another But some do We gather at watering holes to feed Go out in…

the swing somewhere near my childhood a swing hangs from the branch of an old tree which leans over the edge of a cliff often filled with mist an ancient house hides nearby only a few family members know of this tree’s odd power to…