there are no problems
in these halcyon hours
when the breeze is heaven’s breath
and every living thing is a song
on the air, on the earth

there are no problems
when all that is seen is child’s play
dark east Indian feet chase light Hutterite
in the bliss of “who cares?”
barefoot grass trodders milling
at aimless play as though
tomorrow is not nor ever will be

there are no problems
beneath a sky this shade
amidst the electric hum of life lived
while green is life in the nook of everywhere
and light is transparent gold on the wind

there are no problems
when the world holds its breath
to stop itself right here, right now
staunch denial of before and after
a great cry to every power that
“this is where we stand…we will go no further…”