It's summer in fall and trees are dropping
Fruits like flies, and the mountains
Surround us in a distant splendour.
To others in places far away
This seems to be paradise
But I –
I cannot see it so, not anymore.

When the distant becomes near
Cracks in it can (and must?) appear.

Paradise is small and quiet
Not like a tomb, but like
A snake sunning in the grass –
And I find that I who have come here
Have been spoiled by other lands.

I have found flaws in paradise.

The people are … just people,
Some nice some rude some angry.
I get angry at traffic delays
And the lack of jobs –
For even in paradise one must work.

Only in the mountains does it retain
The wonder of the name paradise.
And cities expand.

- Josh MacLeod, 2002