Fairmount Park, Philadelphia

We have plenty oxygen.
Every separate peace rustles in trees,
expands in breeze, and crisscrosses seas

of asphalt and inconspicuous disease.
The healing fills cathedrals of hearts
veined leaf by leathery leaf soon to fall.

Somehow we can inhale our fill
and have even extra still,
maybe twelve spare baskets by miracle.

Published in Aurorean, Encircle Publications, 2017

 
Written by Joe Bisicchia on 04/11/17
© 2017 Joe Bisicchia

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