The breeze pours through fresh maples
spring is upon us, we gather fragrance.
Without their leaves and branch and root
the sounds would be lost in a cavern
Occasional noise interferes to remind us
we are in the city, a street cleaner sends
clouds of dust to tease the open convertible,
the owner reacts with little recourse.
Wait, while the light changes, the highway
ahead will sweep out the dust that irritates
eyes beyond sights of shallow smiles
and complex expressions telling the day
to each observer, before the honk, the engine
roars to nearly cradle a smaller compact
trying to get home to their vibrant landscape.
A thousand automobiles will pass through
trained lights and merged realities to go home.
While the action bumps and grinds a mechanic’s
dream, Earth; nature’s permanence will tease
the eyes that wish themselves laying about
on the green lush grass of a lovely afternoon.
What if the lights didn’t change and everything
stopped until the serenity of gazing about were
disrupted by taunting horns and slammed doors?
Would we in the human condition recognize
they haven’t a choice but to listen to our whines
as we try to recover from the injury of Man,
the purveyor of such disruptive tones in harmony.
A stalled engine gives opportunity to amend yet
instead self-guided concern creates a loud barrage.
We will come home in a reasonable amount of time
while the leaves on the trees sing breezy melodies.