Perhaps That’s Been the Story of Life

just as I will miss the full spectrum of sunset shades
when the leaves return to the trees,
which I can see now only so far and bright
laying a creamsicle calm over the city
because the branches bare
because the winter persists
just as I will try,
on summer evenings to find a better view
at a head tilt or upon a stool
until autumn wind clears sight lines once again
the fever runs its course on my body.
and I sweat and swear and struggle
not to check the news over and over
I wonder if the squirrels curse the branches
for getting thick with sap and overcrowding
their hand woven nests with complete disregard
I wonder if they struggle with the same upset
knowing bushy tailed or disheveled
they can’t change a thing


Rows of trees have grown

where I once only saw square houses

lined up among dusty roads.

The snow doesn’t fall so lightly

with the rain scratching the mud

and the spring leaves struggling

to grow.

I’m watching the birds pickup sticks

and build new summer homes.


they build after the harsh winter season,

and I wish it were that simple to go home.