Outside Wishing In

the trees are starting to yellow in
the late August breeze, still humid as
Autumn walks up the front steps ready
to knock. my best thoughts left
orphaned on a cloud to the south in
the shape of a camel or dromedary, I
can’t tell from humps.

my favorite part of the year well
behind us, we’ll slide into winter before
we know it. there were fireworks
on Monday, I think for no reason, the
southern clouds captured the red and
green smoke and mirrored the
white of the bombs bursting in air.

Those Sweet Words permeate the
dewdrop air, Norah’s subtle lullaby gentle
across the scared wood of my second story
deck in the Park. green is fading into
white lime and dirty brown, the soil wants
to drink, but the sky is thirsty and persistent.

children pass skittish in flip flops
unknowingly casting their vote in the
upcoming election, going home to
suck out the seeds of a watermelon in
front of the TV tuned to the Olympics
in Athens. they’ll watch them swim
laps and hold prizes around their necks,
but mom will turn it back to cartoons
when the women play beach volleyball.

sirens on a "main street" call a halt to
traffic on the wide tar, blocks
from here. central air kicks in with
a click, loud enough to startle the
sparrows avoiding the sorrow of flying
into the southern clouds still laced
with sulfur smoke poison poised to
choke off the vegetation to
the east. this is what happens...