For one golden moment,
in mid-afternoon,
the sun hits the trees
just right.

The leaves seem to glow,
and in the warm breeze
seem to be made
of pure, fluttering alloy,
hammered thin.

And in that one,
glinting second
when the whole street
seems lined with
pillars of shimmering
yellow light,
the sun shines down
warm and gentle,
and the breeze is
light and cool,
and for one golden moment,
all is right with the world.