Author: Brent

Monday morning
The summer heat
No escape

Blind creek
Stealing glimpses
Of the sky

In the morning
City’s summer festival
Street sleeps

In the face
Of all that wind, my hat
Threatening to fly

Bounding through
With no boot- to -er
Wet dog’s joy

Pitter patter
We talk about
The weather

Gentle columbines
Trying to remember
Their name

Underneath the grid
A creek meanders blindly
Lilacs in full bloom

The afternoon heat
A body of water
Looking for water

Marking the rise
Of another sun
Our morning rounds