Opera

This first day of the new year
feet tumble towards a small temple,
blue as a brahmin place;
gaze drops silent
upon the city dimming haze.
Continuing upwards
a path woven of uneven steps,
trailing shadows where a late sun
flares moss into fevered green
between rocks, beneath fallen trees
scrambling birdsong,
solitude scented by the sounds
crowding the ascent;
in the temporary air, we pass
unnoticed by the bright moss,
transient as the breeze.