Finally, a poem is birthed.

The stone buildings have amassed in the city,

And I walk between them gingerly

As between a child’s scattered playthings.

The through-fares and alleyways meander,

Carrying me toward the south where the rivers meet.

They flow about like ribbons,

Tying the city up between their banks.

The February sun falls, descending into the meadows,

Illumining the cherry-blossom tree

Standing, crooked, before the church doors.

A mass of people rush about me,

Flowing as rivers meandering the streets,

Themselves tied up in the heart of a city

Flourishing with the coming Spring.