hot as a sidewalk
in July. You can fry an egg
on me. I’m a hustling, bustling
public street.

I am
cool as a midnight
serenade, covering you in
golden brocade. You’d get lost
in the reverie of evergreen,
turquoise waters
and bubbling streams.

I am
a starlight band. You can
dance in the moonbeams and
rainbows, weep in the milkweed
and widows.

I am
a baby lamb, soft as the first
snowfall. But building in
tempo. You can paint a farm
with me. I am the orchards. I am
the bees. I am the marmalade sky
and fields, the whippoorwill and
daffodil.

I am
black and white
on paper, a scratching on
a napkin, glossy print in
a magazine/stuck in pages
in between a book. Never **-hum –
I am poem.