You love the small streets,
the quiet precincts;
the lighted window
up on the corner
where a tree this past–
Christmas still sparkles,
all the world made
heavenly by a cup
of lemon tea,
simplicity
and nourishment
of mere life, the bed
at dawn, the waiting home —
even one alone,
bare minimum, sometime,
maximum can be.
The Needle in the Haystack by John Jack Jackie (Edward) Cooper
