Poetry

Neighborhood

I walk down the lane.

A loop,

Something

like a circle of infinity.

Hidden in the corner of the

world.

Unkown with so many pages.

An Amazon truck passes.

-

Waving green jungle arms reaching.

Beseeching.

Shields from the spearing sun rays.

Dapple spots – Jaguar coat.

Rustling.

-

For a suburb, there's a lot of rumbling.

-

Leaf blowers resound.

Eyes snap around.

-

Gathering.

Towers

Of sharp leaves.

Man-made pyramids of barbed twigs,

But faster than they could be cleared.

They

showered

Down.

Heat clouded around, humidity clinging.

Pulling, and dragging.

-

Fragrance.

Pungent and strong --- Soothing and gentle,

Full of pollen, I sneeze

Full of life, the bees

Look at the Deer

It's coming near

Where?

Next to the fire-pit sphere.

Footprints.

Watch the wild cat prowl

Keep away, it started to growl

Pond of Fish, lives

Heron comes, sieves

-

A story of a diamond ring.

Angrily thrown.

Created by under lying pressure.

Returned when lost, after years and years.

-

Hear the robin from its welcoming nest sing.

No underground tomb of jade found.

Belonging.

The ring doesn't recognize it's not a hatchling.

-

With feather armor a bird of Prey,

Burrows, pine needles,

anything to escape.

Snake, scrambling, searches.

A hand reaches.

Careful of the thorns and fang bites.

Two red

points.

"Calm down" she breathes.

It teaches.

-

Picking from the rose gondola-trellis.

Fresh-cut morning buds.

Nine-petaled flowers.

Magnolias scattered like stars in the sky.

Diverse, even the rare twice blooming were here.

Peaceful, Lycaste skinneri white.

Gentle, Dawn pink.

Furios, Sunset red.

Hurt, Bruise purple.

Vibrant green.

-

Tall and strong --- Small and nimble

Garden---

Garden of years' effort.

Worked so hard for.

Trees, plants, immaculately placed with care.

Duggen up, the broken shards of pottery.

Each tells a hidden story.

-

Stone, silent and cold, several chronicles worth.

Small walls protectively circling around like a warm embrace.

Storms pass, but it's still there.

Even as so many other things are taken down with it.

-

Try to plant cacao seeds.

A story to be written.

Can't meet the certain needs.

-

Hanging on like the roots of a centurion.

-

Trees.

A tale.

"Cut the trees!" he exclaimed,

"They're old and will fall" he warned.

There used to be dogwoods.

They've got billions.

A book full.

Another hurricane.

And down they came,

The oaks.

from all the wind and the rain.

An unmeant hoax.

It's insane.

They'd played a card.

From neighbor's yard.

To the garden of years of effort and work.

Toppling down they came.

Taunting, and annoyed.

Path of destruction.

Crumpled plants.

Broken chairs.

A warzone.

It's history.

I walked down the lane.

A cover of tar black obsidian expanse.

At a single glance.

But so much more.

He silently blamed.

If only they'd tried.

If only they'd admitted.

If only they'd listened.

Rustling.

For a suburb, there's a lot of reminiscence.