The little postage stamp Country Packed its Old roads With a multitude of cars And built Its cities Into congested Smogs Ad what order Did remain Were the beehives In the desert terrain. And blackrobe priests Mingling with the Avant Garde Leading their flocks To worlds Built with words. And if there is a mystery here I want to say I surely don't see it Yet maybe I do In the smell of souls From Past experiences.
Irwin R. Shaw - 1983
The Little Country
The little postage stamp
Country
Packed its
Old roads
With a multitude of cars
And built
Its cities
Into congested
Smogs
Ad what order
Did remain
Were the beehives
In the desert terrain.
And blackrobe priests
Mingling with the
Avant Garde
Leading their flocks
To worlds
Built with words.
And if there is a mystery here
I want to say I surely don't see it
Yet maybe I do
In the smell of souls
From Past experiences.