Rusted maple leaves
fallen on ice, from the
disgraced trees.
Spread like tiny palms of
sweet children-
ready for school.

I have come to teach
myself, the lessons
of nonviolence in moonlight-
washed promises.

Where lies the peanut
wisdom of man, crashed on
the cruel earth?

The refugee cult
grows out of the torn psyche.
So you believe in-
incarnation?