There is one single minute in the late morning
that mankind can be loved during.
It comes around ten thirty when the air is light and creamy
and the city is awake
but it’s not hungry yet.
The children are set to work with men
the sounds the machines squeak are earnest
and the human device becomes beauty.
Utopia is born.
Come ten thirty one,
a shadow shifts to the morning
and crows take over everything
Eden can only live a minute.