a step into the open air at dawn…it’s like a drop onto a fresh cut lawn.
and oh but with the natural light all coming down upon a vibrant landscape, it pushes the breeze from view and leaves the trees all budding; newly to life from old lives in winter’s full bloom.
now it is but a likeness to the heavens, all colors in the spectrum, light. and moving back into a pleasant way is the city not so gray and fleeting from its arms.
it is but a wild moon approaching.
it is but water to the seeds all grown.
it is but lightly from the wind now blowing out all birthday candles, perplexing patron’s windows…yes, they look out but oh, still glass between us, reaching out but far away from touching the flower torn from earthen soil, crushed and sprouting again with each april till.
vowing not to view such idle things could lead you to hate your spring. so you open up your screens and trade the picket fence for a camera lens, all lifted loveliness to display across the room. and as far as you can tell, the wall is nothing left but to be removed.