deep forest green trimmed in black with silvery gold elegant as ever seen crystal beads that jingle as they dance on the simhasana in ecstatic trance leis of narcissus and rose making a nest of fragrance in each and every nose cycle babble and i sprint the winding street hearing the leaves rustle and red

wing blackbirds tweet campa hatta on the right weaving thru casual cyclists in afternoon's light round the bout up beach hill bidding goodbye to early weeks chill folks with dogs in saint dagwood's park cheer us on to beat the dark but ratha-bhojana-vrksa needs our light to see our folded palms as we flee back to the ashram where a mellow fellow invites us to come see bells ceremony the lamp burns with light that's yellow at day's end they dress in purple shades "it's a miracle" night clothes soothing for their evening play