Season
Fire slides down this scene
Bursting the canvas on fire
Till every side is empty
And the chill comes tumbling after
As the freshly washed sheets
That cover the dirty and unclean,
So our eyes are blinded
By green mothers fingers.
Gravity pulled down the sparkle
That sleeps on top the lawn,
A pretty fantasy
That sparks up conversation
With everyone’s dreams.
Our breath flares up and forms
While the foot steps
Trace down the lines
Of where home is.
This little day stays awhile
Until heat washes it away
And the green breaths outs from underneath,
Sips from the melting sheets,
Sprouting color back onto the street,
The garden under the brick,
Leaking through the edges
And out through the seams.