Women's soccer,
yellow and red shirts,
drenched in sweat,
run like crazy around the soccer field.

The man in the kayak
manouevers his boat
in the artificial bubbling rapids...

And I walk and walk,
walk to get my daily bread,
walk to bring water home,
walk to relieve pressure...

as Montreal is burning...

The telephone rings.
A mother is concerned for her grandchildren.
Do they live near the riots??
When is the babys first birthday party ??
The theme is pink,
all pretty pink cakes and drinks and dresses.

And the protestor with the large placard
in Tiananmen Square
is escorted by polite young security men
and sent home
where she is met by some members
of the Tibetan community.

And Montreal is burning
and I struggle through my days
and not many know of my woes
and like one woman said at the community meal -
I wonder what the queen is eating for lunch ??

I am too tired to wonder.
Wonder comes naturally
when walking early in the morning and
a sense of beauty overcomes my self
when a thousand cicadas buzz together.

The large trees shade me from
the burning city...

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