Beauty Is Poem by David O'Mahony

In summertime abandon
sweet wafts of unknown airs
caress his face.

Honking and laughing and
guys on phones;
The city absorbs them all.

Fruitful flies amid a
torment of irresistability.

Forever surrendered amid
the jostling din,
the unending joy,
the playful indolence,
and transcendent ethics.

The spirit of the beehive
is no match
for the shimmering,
squall-like conflagration.

This unholy mess!

It would have it no other way.

Beauty is what is.

Who are we to judge?

Dive in!