Green.

Green. Slates of grey-powder-blue
Against it. I can see the branches like
Arms waving up over the fields of bricks,
And a plane (or is it a bird?) roars or
Soars right behind it. Ambiguity seems to be

Ruling today. Oh no, this time it’s truly a bird;
A bullet of feathers and silver and flight
That can soar over the sea of tiles
Like a cloud of flesh and far-too-early
Tweets and singings.

I’m looking out the window,
And the sunlight’s streaming across and
Through like water over sand, and I
Can feel it around and through me.
Through the glass thats

Like bars blocking the world from me.