Rainbow June Ends, Then What?
In Memory of Angel
Is the cement surrounded tough oak
touching my third floor bedroom window
a perennial blessing or curse?
This huge pollution screening
stoically hears my naked confessions
in freezing winter cold snaps
to summer skin-roasting heat;
cycling through boundless
gender-rich green and ashy dead grey, this life
hosts daredevil squirrels and colorful birds
in open air—
not one pedestrian or barking canine in the picture.
So this is my window-framed tree: daily reminder
life continues as simply as this,
it bloody does not.