The lid is lifted off the world, the sky turns blue, infinite.
Park the car on the roof, walk around, released from artificial time.
No pressure, expelling dirty air, breathing in silence.
The streets below are full of space, the rhythm of quiet potential,
undemanding. Long shadows cast by a warm sun, knuckles released
from pockets, unfurl, wave, from one to another across
the market square. A school band plays carols underscoring
stall holders stacking vibrant flowers, holly, mistletoe,
fruits & pies & steaming urns gleam, ready to revive
the weary passengers of a tiny ball of busy dirt.