Krsna's Flute

Foot, enclosed by
the strangling caress,
of jingling bells, anklet
as raised and falls
in sole intention.

Upward traverses,
crowd heaves, the treading
mass, the cries of their
mantra, and conviction.

A peaceful mottled
and ennobled beam,
surrounds; countless
faces in visored song,
then outward peals
a ragtail and
fettered throng.

Singing for the march
of change, flutes
and tablas, trumpets
range, and swell
and cleaves the
populace, so quells
the rage.

Would our leaden
walk, pick up
our muted, fluted nectar
and fruitful thought.