A fringe tree releasing its sweet, lilac-like fragrance with a hint of spiciness, especially welcoming in the dawning light.

Because until we start choosing we never know who we are.

Of consistent rhythm and resilience.

To a technocrat’s asylum

For being more than a watering hole

All squared up and no one to hold

For turning thoughts into prayer

And its formidable stretch

For popping in to give good cheer.

Unquenchable for empty spaces to wander.