Not everyone has laws. They come
From life, the crisp autumn comes
With the wind, it comes down from
The mountains, it shakes the geraniums.
The feral cats don’t notice the fading
Stars, the blur of orange-pink,
And the quiet in the hollow of
The day that speaks, their eyes blink,
They do not see the fantasy,
The shocking wealth, the sap in the tree,
They think it has always been here, the supple
Wind, the cars and their ennui.
Yaacov David Shulman