When a whisper wheels through the willows

Trees too tired to raise their arms start dancing

The entire city of grass lays on their back

and smiles. When the silver mirror of the lake

Starts to tarnish, the azaleas huddle under awnings

Holding out their hands, the daisy in the window nods off, Morning glory shutters it’s doors early,

the marigold opens its eyes and I’ll be planted

Under a front porch with a tin roof, listening.