instead of leaves
plastic bags on the branches—
the wind day after day
sound of train whistle—
fingers tightly squeeze
a pink rose bouquet
half moon dark covered—
cats from the street
make serenade
winter morning noise—
a long line of sparrows
on the wire
spring after divorce—
just emptiness grows
where memories were
noon heat—
moving grass
swings the sky
picnic blanket—
the ant came before me
to the breakfast
on an oak branch
the winter sparrow twitters—
nested evening sun
ancient fortress—
centuries covered with
a wealth of fresh grass
highway in the mist—
a red sport car flies
out of the sky
