may the din become a jazzy beat

When one no longer gazes in starry sight

And feels their mortal life to be mundane,

Beyond the stars, they look, so to explain

The lack of daily bread with daily light.

Within the concrete cityscape's confines

Lies grace, fair as found in formal sonnet,

But pause, peruse the poem, think upon it,

And find beauty, aesthetics, in traffic signs.

If to the sky they gazed but once again,

Or to the world with worldly eyes anew,

Then may the din become a jazzy beat

And autumn's leaves begin to glow as when

A day's routine did not your sight askew,

Instead, held hopes, held grace, in hopes to meet.