When Spring Comes to Sabine's Hill
the hill becomes the sea
and Yellow Waves
Blue Waves
White waves and high waves
fills up the spring
flowing down
becomes a river of small spring things
full of daffodil colors
passes the ***** big city
passes the lonely islands
Sabine's hill is wet with water
Small, smooth pebbles
if blocked
while singing
while dancing, while flowing
Sabine Hill fears
neither water nor fire
like the wind
with its tiny, transparent bells
summer and autumn to come
and the winter that will silence them
on the waiting
The Hill of Sabine
The Chorus of Life
fading humanity of the 21st century
towards the dehumanized city
It is waving hands.

- to my Maple