Trees laden with yellow cassia
laburnum trembling awake
And someday perhaps I shall write of these
In happy, complete and content stories,
plump and placid with ever-afters.
Until then I find delight
In giving shape to
The sly and crafty, shrewd and cunning,
Shortcut prone, gritty underside
The city trembles when they walk.
Women with rich pasts and edgy tempers
And smiles like steel
Stories that waft in with the wind.
much as you’d like to believe otherwise
When I dot my I’s and cross them t’s
Tis with glee, at least, or a smile.