in late winter/early spring, lilac
emulsion spreading like a curious mind,
watching the trees outside
while sipping a glass of Coke,
(for Coke adds life)
and pondering the quote
on a scrap of newspaper:
“religion used to be regarded
as the opium of the people, now
drugs are that opium”
reflecting on how
the world walks, then runs
in a poem about
being rain-washed, sun-dried,
stunned by the claims of affection
alone in a house
on an early spring day
watching the trees outside
painting a room lilac
watching the trees
thinking that life is the opium of the people
hoping the trees
might re-invent my mind
as process/wind/air/light