Andreas Escobar sat under a yew tree
eating a plum from Hubble's market.
With brim pushed up and shirt undone,
nectar ran over his unshaven chin
and broke into a dozen tributaries
as it made its way down his chest.
pushed up the hill and through the limbs.
A solitary song from a lonely wing
overhead found its existence by
one pair of ears opened to the
possibilities of constant flux.An ant hill at the outer extent
of the shade curtain flourished in activity.
The urban collective in a maze of industry
stretched down and down and out
towards the subterranean suburbia
eschewing interminable monotony.An infrequent nucleus burned hot
and long as unconcerned parties tracked time.
A practice undenied and uninhibited
courses onward to a non-conclusion
that is unavoidable but pre-negotiated
at some celestial wine and cheese.