Concrete and glass
Comfort in our human burrows
Concrete, wood and glass
All the picture of man-built purity
Simple shapes and simple passages
A taxi comes if we make the right phone call,
water and power are gifts from the walls
Our waste gets carried away to some emptiness
Some turns useful. Some just goes
Most everything here has been alive. Moving and eating, wanting and chasing
The glass in my window once swam in the oceans, protecting tiny ancient souls
Paints and plastics, wooden walls, even the concrete floor
All of it flowed once, flesh in some being. Muscles, a shell, or glistening leaves
Now we rework it like beeswax sculptors
Comfort comfort, every day
Telling stories in air cooled chambers
Nature is never far away