The doves rest upon rusting rebar, fly in and out, flutter to rest unconcerned above the poisoned earth. May their freedom teach us. May their lively kinship in a dangerous place be our guide. May we, as they, make our homes blessed on our single, our haunted earth. The Scots philosopher glosses the Greek's words.
Circles exist everywhere and at all times, overlapping on the rain-kissed pond.
Crown of a young head bent over a book, long shining black hair spilling down. A mother's full breast, bare beneath her oval face. New quarter, bright in a boy's golden palm. Broken circles also exist, across all the round world. Mosque tower in shards littering the ground.