We Ride in the Rain.
We are happy, we seldom complain.
Something about moving, the quenching,
the drenching, the Softness of Nature’s Hand
on our parched linens.
The Gladness of Man
the moving of the Seasons,
the Ancient Rhythm of commerce,
the Hum of the Marketplace Mantra.
Aromas of Humanity sustain us
as we move sideways, vertically
frantically, erratically, measuring carefully
our pace, our dance, our stance.
We Ride in the Rain.
Love captures us once again.
From old withered hearts,
parades of Color will start;
and who knows the Art?
Sitting in the Saddle
of the Smile of Krishna
the Benediction of Buddha
the Mercy of Christ
the Wisdom of Allah
We live for the Color of Love.
the Season of the Dove.
the Warm soft hand of God
inside our Velvet Glove.