The Other Side of the Hill

O bird flying through mist

O rain glinting lightly on the grass

I walk in the untarnished town of nature

where flies dance leisurely and cunning
above dark princely plantain

where there is swap and change, and the road goes on
through hurt and death – but never jealousy

I forget the caste system of people

O light brown circling disappearing
butterfly, pleasure of a second

O half closed dandelion, O small young bird
that hopped from the bush to the grass, still learning to fly

I cannot follow your path.

I go back to the stained minds of people.

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