water trickles from rooftops
into pools with plosives
in a steady counterpoint
to passing traffic
streaming rubies that shimmer
as each revving engine
peels out, having waited
at the busy intersections
in the mid-winter bustle,
the preparations for holidays
when family flies in
and people are bound up
like wreaths like packages
shipped a day too late
to arrive by that sacred morning
when paper litters living rooms
and a million smiles echo
the same forgotten feeling
that started it all 2,000
years before in a tiny town
woven into the fringe of an empire.
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