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Description
Clouds like pure white
puffs of smoke
trailing between dry lips,
branches full of emerald leaves
whipped back and forth,
bowing and rising
in the wind's wake.

Two clear rectangles
of dappled greenery
shifting between golden sunlight and
silver shadows;
a welcomed surprise
set in the West End's back roads.

Air choking on refined oil,
the tang of fish rising off
summer water and
trees—
some swollen with lavender—
dying.

It's unbearably sad
until the light changes and
every twig
is glowing, gleaming, basking
in the chance
to be beautiful,
arms extended toward
blue patches of sky.