Figs
by Rufo Quintavalle
[ poetry - october 08 ]
The city is cold but somewhere figs
swell in an October sun.
Today the huge idea of money stopped
but the force which makes money gather and burst,
which used to move through God
and some say will again,
will outlive money itself.
Because things are
they have a preference for life,
and we call good whatever lets them grow.
