Who do you see

When the lady circles you?

When she passes you

On the filthy streets?

Blessedness seems to have died in this

Mundane world.

Lost among the hurry and greed

Of too many hearts discouraged.

Did you catch the tear on her cheek

As she smiled and stepped past you?

Did you hear the crushing of the claret leaf

Beneath her foot?

Or the whispering sigh under her breath,

As she gazed westward into the heavens?

You did see her figure

Descending down the cement stairs,

A song floating from her lips.

Did you not?

What were the words that rested

In that haunting melody?

What vivid love was there,

Hiding in a most unusual form,

Of secrecy and difference,

Of blue and grey instead of red and pitch,

Of the ocean, the forest,

Instead of all that towers

In this mighty city?

She passed into the wood below,

That old wood.

Yes,

Where you toss your burger wrappers

When you are late.

She hides within that old wood,

You saw her fade into its arms

Of aspens and spruce.

And the swirling praise of song

She cries and sings,

Is ever greater in its home.