Rose, the loveliest of pagan namings,

Could see clear to another day

The past was a foreign country:

Where we gave so much away.

Happy trails

Landed us in Golden Gate Park

San Francisco

Palo Alto was a world apart

Looking for a revolution

And this was it:

No empty-headed technologies

Still no silicon in the valley

Just a box of rain

 

Such a long-long time gone by.

A short time to be there

Where God don't check no papers

Black, white, hip, square

Loss of hope was not allowed,

No fear, no favours. no cynical cravers

A good man's currency not counted in notes

Life composed of all the unremembered kindnesses

That keep us afloat. That presience still wows me

Just learning how to be.

No consumers No hoarders No orders from above

Living in harmony and learning how to love.