Excellence

A pigeon pecks at crumbs, somewhere

Is the measure, the scales 

Balanced between hunger and full.

In the alleyway, shadows turn

Quietly, without fanfare;

The man with the cigarette,

Squinting through the smoke, 

Knows where excellence hides—

In the overlooked, the shoes 

Worn at the heel, the laughter

That floats up like a balloon,

Lost to the clouds. His hand,

Rough with work, gently 

Lifts the thought, a delicate 

Moth wing in the cold morning. 

We live on choices, 

Between the cobblestones, 

Grains of sand blown together,

There is no universal rule,

Only a crooked path, winding

Through the necessary and the hopeful,

Detailed by reason, and the hunch

Of wisdom misplaced. The wisest 

Eyes peer from behind curtains,

Silently weighing the notes,

The history of scales, to tell us

Nothing is given freely,

Everything balanced on the edge

Of a wise man’s breath,

Disappearing softly, unseen.