
planting summer blooms
the pull of the whistling kite
across a blue sky

awake before dawn
all senses fully attuned
to world waking up
the wind on the face
sweeping between the houses
cold front moving through
light where the road bends
startling until the mind sees
the train’s on the track
constant cognitive struggle
between what’s sensed and what’s real
moon over Venus
the wind rustling through the leaves
sends chill down the spine