looking out at trees which are now nearly empty…few colors remain…rust and golds clinging to limbs by old Saint Pat’s…making me wish my soul was saved…

and on the ground grass is still green…leaves in piles by Saigon…an Asian sweeps the sidewalk…I wish him good morning in English…he nods and smiles…nods and smiles…

the air gives us breath…we all take it in…