a traffic light
of blue, purple and orange.
Its colors melt and frame
the tall trees, envelopes
trees lean like
a burden, peek into windows,
listening. Branches laugh
at their conversations.
The words shake their leaves.
Drunkenness leads to
that can be heard over the whispers
of television. Distant conversations
become blurred lines,
and the earth absorbs their stories.
the distant roar shakes the atmosphere,
and leaves the sound in a line of echoes.
It fades to a mellow hum.
The melody melts
into a bluebird’s song.
come alive with a steady heartbeat,
A pen in my hand records the memory.