when the day was warm we went out from the office and squinted in the sun
and we all sat on benches to eat deli sandwiches that we had purchased with
what little cash we didn't put into the bank, what we allowed ourselves to spend,
what we weren't stashing away in hopes of saving up for vacations or books
or going back to school or to someday have just enough to purchase a plot of land
and some seeds to grow a garden and build a hut with sturdy wooden planks
and then we could live forever as a community of clasped hands out in the sun.
Oh, if life were that simple, what dreamers and poets we all would be.
1 comment:
Honey, it ain't New York City, but the ground is fertile and 100 people could come here en masse and live that Walden Pond poetry. As long as you don't mind gunfire from four different directions off in the distance.
Seriously Chris this piece (which I love) speaks to the hope of all mankind. We call it the American Dream but what is that? Nothing more than a piece of land, a job, or a way to make food, clothing and shelter for you and your family. That seems to me to be a desire not exclusive to Americans but all people. A desire for harmony throughout the days of our lives.
Be Well
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