Paradise

By Andrew R. Duckworth

You wouldn’t think it,
But this place was perfect once-
Not a chip in the brick,
Not a pothole in the street.

There were no weapons of war,
No tribal strife between foes-
No foes to speak of.
There was no tribe.

There was a guiding voice
Among the fruit trees
And we listened…
For a while at least.

Just two beautiful birds
In a perfect nest.