morning breeze: afternoon swallow

listening to soft fifties music,
i await the sirens
with my hands resting
gently
on the smooth table.

a cat cleans its paw
dilligently and haughtily
and somewhere
i hear the song of a goldfinch
and the frenzied
screaming
of the dogs.

morning sunshine: afternoon shade

a moving van
chugs by slowly and loudly
bouncing on the bumpy street
and i see
a child's toy, a rag doll,
fall out of the open window
onto the pavement,
forgotten.

two droplets of dew
bead gracefully
on the petal's edge of my
blooming african violets.

morning seraphs: afternoon mourners

today, i think
today i will not turn my back.
today i will not
force the tears of my
guardian angel
and my elegant black-clothed lovers.

somewhere nearby
i hear the moving truck stopping
and people descending
and doors opening.
i wonder what sort
of people they are
and what sort
of children they have
and whether they will realize
that their doll is a mere
twenty paces away
in front of my house.

morning embrace: afternoon farewell...