Realigned my soul
So the sour, pale strawberry
Still was a blessing
Could there be more heav’nly sounds
More clear-cut answer to prayer
As these wondrous crickets’ songs
Bless the lonely air
Tear-stained girl, lovesick boy
“Keep the hope,” ’tis said
This night, they’ll keep you company
Their concert voids the dread
I’ve been taught to grow
My bright green, giv’n blessing to
You’ll want my number
One would ask, “Wouldn’t it be lovely?”
Driving down gridded streets that sometimes wound East, then South.
Thinking of shutters painted contrasting colors, or perhaps altogether removed.
One imagines children’s summertime voices.
Carefree and popsicle glee, front sidewalks their territory.
As it should be.
One seems perfect there.
Small and yellow, with miles and miles of welcome.
Surely big enough for whatever weather.