Search until you find the quiet place, high above
a growling city, where an ocean blue sky sings peace
through the forgotten, living things.¹
Stand still when you listen.
Twirl, open-palmed, when you sing. Even with
outstretched arms, humble ministry  
will overwhelm a curious beggar.
Drop your crumbs for the chorus birds. Stop,
pick up a discarded six-pack ring from
the community watering hole.  Animals listen to
our pleas, despite their wildness,² so
spare no expense when offering your love
in return. Ignore the passing cars, the lostness of
your understanding, the worry of
unreturned phone calls, and exchange breath with
all that is seen and unseen in this caravan kingdom
of travelers fighting to explore
a trying world. 

    ¹ Oakland, California. The off-season grounds, the magical-play-pretend landscape of Woodminster Amphitheater in Joaqun Miller Park. 

    ² Two or three times a week, during my grad school years at Mills College, I would drive up to the hills. Park. Give a concert for no one. Such juxtaposition- honking and pollution, a hurried city below…above- fountains, a Snow White community nonchalant and hanging out…there was such a pressure-cooker signal for me to bottle my existence around 23,24…so I absolutely wore imaginary rhinestones, and Judy’d my best Rainbow to any deer, bird, squirrel willing to stick around and listen. Grateful for the friend who shared it with me.