Crescendoing cicadas reverberate in morning’s humid air. Shadows slant long across browning grass.
Trees cast their images on the side of the building like a scene from an old time picture show. Silhouettes of limbs sway, echoing the living trees across the street, where birds sing their joyous songs, notes bouncing off the wall of shadows.
from velvety black curtains of night emerge pale visions, their silken garb delicate as lace
the day’s tide sweeps outward into the depths of darkness only to return, awash with first light
like wings, petals rise upward in the dance of life leaving stains, blood red
Memories flit through panes of glass, reflecting on sunlit days of childhood.
Lit by streetlights, cracks in the road appear like maps – lines intersecting time.
floating on a pool of rippling green she rides out the heat of the day offering a moment of cool repose to those passing by
Buds emerge one by one, their blossoms the face of summer.
Clouds move swiftly, captured by currents, invisible yet strong. Birds silence their songs.