The red and orange petals
And the yellow flowers
Are spilt on the road
Like debris of dreams
I do not want to tread on
The wind shakes the tree
Cannot shake off a crow
Riding a limb like a swing
I ask myself if this is
A walk or tree walk
How can I pass up one
As if I am on a passing train
The summer has ended
And the monsoon is here
Not too soon I would say
Taking the sky back from
The sun too close to be yay ----
I look up at the rain clouds
Turning the blue canopy grey ---
I would not mind stopping
Under an awning just to watch
The white flowers turning gold
In the evening sun going home.
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