A Fourth of a Poem

All around us, the plants whisper in dry brittle voices, “water us, water us.” Sotto voce, there is no water, and what falls is not wet or gentle, but drops of chthonic fireworks, urban, rural, coastal infernos. The plants dig and pray to Hades, and cooler there than here in this air.

Cherry Trees in City Park in Spring

It was such a perfect day in the park. You might have been reminded of the Lou Reed song “Perfect Day.” The cherry trees were drinking sangria: Oh, it’s such a perfect day I’m glad I spent it with you Oh, such a perfect day You just keep me hanging on The second person is…