evening and the garden exhales exuding cool green and a tiny fresh breeze comes gently in my window above the hill the piled clouds are pink, moving en masse to the east with purpose overhead the swifts converge and flash past in happy groups, their high excited voices of glee and me: in the evening I am surrounded by thick walls and lush gardens, heart alive mind resounding down the years with all the scenes all the people, all the places, all the thingsnext poem