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View from Street

I

Autumn bulbs sprout out at corners,
the unfurling umbrellas.
They catch raindrops near ends
of earthbound flights.

Surprised drips,
but each slides
as it has been taught
and finally reaches pavement
after a short fall from fabric
and metal tangs.

Umbrellas are satisfied with their work,
but shudder in sudden wind:
a nodding crop of black tulips.

II

October yellow elm
trees in sunshine

Leaf blowers whining
about work

Smell of gasoline
that will be impossible soon
as oil deposits
(made by decayed leaves)
will have been depleted

Future leaves will be left to rot,
building in streets in heaps
for scores upon scores
of years until all is slick
with elm-leaf oil.
The oil will be yellow,
like the sun.

III

There is a smell that geranium leaves leave,
just the rounded side of sharp,
when the dog paws shuffle them.
His spit-polished nose carries it home
to drop on the door’s step.
He shakes the rain off his golden fur.
He pelts me with geraniums.


Posted 07/05/09
Comments (1)
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Good poem. Has staying, winning power.
11/10/09 2:27am