Street Music

Face toward the sun

Your light gives us all roots

In the song you sing with him.





With Him.

The golden horn he plays gives

Way to your voice

Cradling

"Hush little baby, don't you cry."



We feast our eyes on purple.



Shoppers stop

Put down their phones

As gossamer light from above feeds

Those beneath.



But mostly you.



I have only two dollars

To give

So I give

And buy myself minutes

That feel unlocked.



A white cat with salmon nose

curls to sleep

In a window that reads

Fine Art.

It's the song you sing with him.

With Him.