sloping from the TransCanada:

 

a road crew to repair the prairie rain that slid the hill down the sidewalk

 

three riders on one wheelchair, chasing cross-traffic

 

a pedestrian bridge where kids leap up, just as the cars pass beneath

 

used spiderman webs, dangling from rescue trees

 

wading pool asthma

 

and three blackbirds, pecking at peanut shells beside the hot yoga shala

 

 

could tomorrow pack in murderball and taxes, a porch sonata and processed wedding speeches, emails to two Karls, and leg passports?

 

when didn’t hot-and-bothered last all night?

 

but how much ink on paper defines a thorough edit?

 

A Voice, then a Crow.

 

friends fly east, west, and north. I sit facing south, in the shade, late in the evening, on a flat piece of cement, dying for loopholes

 

and when tomorrow isn’t what the early-bird brings?

 

 

 

Photo By: nayee*