willow street

I envy these trees
on my block they reach
veins open to the cloudy
night sky unmoved
by the ill-lit street light
garish porch lamp
remorseless dog
who yaps or the
silence of a car
yet to pass a record
spinning unturned
static ice cubes melting
and a fan slowing
they are undressed
and still

I have not thought of
the future of each
seedling that may wander
astray onto out unkempt
lawn, next to the brush
and where the sidewalk
ends at their feet.

I have not thought
of their slow breathes
on days when the air
is thick to breathe.

What I can think of
is this and that
money and necessity
all the while
underneath the shade
of a deciduous tree.