The Streets of Zhengzhou
Ten thousand trees below the blazing sky
Unite to shade the alleys and the town;
Along the sidewalks Chinese workers try
To swing their picks and bring the ruins down.
The grey and modest huts along the lane
Are built with bricks that came from ancient walls;
The beams that hold their shingles in the rain
Once held the porticoes of stately halls.
Beside each door the wise and noble forms
Of ancient ministers are stamped in red
And guard the homes from bitter hungry swarms
Of restless ghosts who scheme among the dead.
The humble dead gave blood to pave the streets
Where happy children laugh and shout for treats.
Copyright 2026 Dan Willmore