» Mosaic


by Charles Hiestand

A tile, a color, a shape,
emerges figures and a story.
With distance there is sense,
yet each piece is nothing but
a tile, a line, a color, a shape
doo, doo, doo.

And so she sings
In this moment,
I am not done with respect and admiration.

And he sings
As large as the night
I hold you as my own
In this moment.

Time in proportion
makes a picture of shape, color, line and tile
doo doo doo,
and a story.