the leaves on the tree
dance and are free
i walk and shake
the dust off my feet
and look up the sky'
like one able to greet
a world that's agog
the pantomime unfolds
the lurid drama lies bare
'neath our staring minds
the big apple is not so big
this was always an illusion
even in those days of plenty
when surfeit  was a stranger
and none took more than they needed