Look, I say—look here—
at this old place
where nothing changes.
Look at the people
who pass by. Look at
the trees. The flowers
full of wanting: look
how full they are with
color. Look how they mock
us, empty people who
must fill themselves
with changes—emptiness.

“There is nothing to be
but happy. There is no
sadness to fall down
like cherry petals.”

The trees don’t under-
stand: they are too
tall to see the germ
of discontent in us.