The day, brisk like crunching on ice
In the blue sky, a bird, blocks the sun, and shields the eyes
Heart racing, and eyes straining
cars swishing the back of my tee shirt
standing off the edge of the bridge
toes tensing with any swaying movement
Drops of water, from clouds opening to heavens
Yet angry pounding of drums, and crooked eyebrows
Come when stepping off, back into the street
Clutterd with, crumpled paper, used band-aids, gum, and half of a shoe
the day was an angry woman throwing a boquet of flowers into a glass vase |
