DREAMING OF GENIES

In the tangle of the world a cow contemplates
the clutter surrounding congregation.

Slagheaps encroach, concrete & glass rise
as if throwing money into the air is the only way

to evolve. The cow ponders trees, and water
in its path; it’s happy in its allotted space,

willing to share, probably, as long as peace settles
on the grass, and noise doesn’t raise a rave.

Also, somewhere an image is solid but just off
kilter enough not to be touched by animal-mind

that those who interfere with everything, could fly,
just float off, leave a creature to graze, sleep…

wander in good rain, clean air under skies that
sometimes race into blue. The dark cools long

nights, lets dust rest. Quiet is free, and easy.