One cherry tree
under the bright blue sky
will never dance for you
Birds are singing
and an airplane flies by.
Fence is still broken
at least on one side.
pin scratching, pin poking,
crunching like the dead of winter snow.
Flowers are blooming.
Well, kind of, but not.
I planted them.
First time he ever let me.
At least, they are green,
the leaves I should say.
I’m not sure what they’re called
and I don’t know what they’ll look like,
but I planted them.
It’s like being pregnant.
There’s a tree growing in the window well.
I’ll have to take care of that,
maybe transplant it,
and the mosquito netting
that took a beating during the storms of the winter.
Air conditioner is loudly humming,
a reminder that I live in the city
with construction trucks beeping everywhere
trying to back up,
trying to fix roads,
trying to rearrange the highway,
trying to prepare for the train.
Air is warm.
It’s good to hang on to what’s good.
I have to hang on to what’s good.