my neighbor cut down his tree
after it fell into his fence during a storm
so now I can see the sky as I lie in bed
the clouds are moving fast
in a hurry to end this hot dry month
from the bald stump,
the tree is pushing back up
with a quickness, a thousand saplings
rising from the one old root
dragonflies are racing in crazy
second storey zigzags
the leaves are shaking with wild
startled darts in the morning wind
on the ceiling the fan zooms;
its cranky motor ticks like seconds passing
my daughter can hardly wait
for school to start again
the only one not in a hurry
is me
Thanks, readers!
The Poetry Patio 