by Peter Gallaher
Behind the house across the street from mine,
The brown house echoing Lloyd-Wright's style
Its wide chimney angling up island like
Against the shallow rise of roof, I see
The random lines of the tree trunks brown-black
Before the pale blue sky scrim and golden
Flow of infant leaves unfolding on a
Sunday afternoon. Here stands Acer Japon,
Beautiful youth, all aflame. Radience
Obedient its leaves bow to the sun's
Light, a silky oblation giving praise
To the glory mantled serene mid-May.
Above, Mockingbird's songs glory wise rise.
I sit, sip tea, listen and believe
