song of a bird I can’t see—
light morning breeze
On opposite sides
of the house two
cars drive by—one north and one south
Clouds like
invaders,
dragon-shaped,
overtakingthose ahead of them
*
These trees are
alive!
Those big blank buildings
are not!—breeze stirring the leaves
The words roll
upward
on a red-lighted
sign inthe subway station
A girl next door
squeals
as I stare out the
window—V of gulls sails by
*
Sitting in lotus—
already better than
Iwas before I sat
In the mist, the
wires
sizzle overhead—bird
perchedup there doesn't care
Artists are surfers—
when your wave
comes, you've got toride it all the way
*
A synthetic voice
from the night parking garage—
alone in the fog
Don’t see him until
he starts tapping at a tree—
morning woodpecker
Hot days—our
so-called
“Hurdy Gurdy Birdy!”
singsthis, and “Pweep! Pweep! Pweep!”
*
He struggles against
wind pouring above the lake—
flapping little bird
Bored shirtless
young men
carry rocks from the
lake bedfor a free boat ride
A dead silver fish
in the little girl’s basket—she wants to keep it
*
Orange sunset glows
through chinks in the cooling trees—
my shirt is still sweaty
Barefoot kids
popping
July Fourth
firecrackers—done before dark
Driving in the heat—
soft gusts through
the half-openpassenger window
.
