Another day – a fiddler on the roof
composes melodies of lasting lights.
Vibrations make the cry of fall aloof,
perception’s blinds are blinded, blurring blights.

The sun is stripped of puffy dressing code,
a wind is walking, like a man on Moon,
like snake’s dead skin is drying dusty road,
caprice of weeping trees is scorching strewn.

The eye is taking cartographic shuts,
views read from snap-to-snap, the hand just types –
how God is calculating love and odds…
The fiddler feeds all opened hearts with vibes.

October 10, 2007

Copyright ©2007 Iouri Lazirko