rain at 73 degrees
deep dark blue of of the foxglove.
brown-backed, picking at flies.
listen how linden-trees blossom
all over this day, this city
of too many judgments and fears.
listen how petals fall randomly
within the fragrant breeze,
how multiple silences
heap up on the sod covered in green
blades criss-crossed at ease.
wagtail leads forth their young,
incredibly grey and puffed,
hungry, uncouth and trusting;
the treacheries of tomorrows.