EARLY PEACHES

 The aroma of early peaches

weaving into the air

remembrances of you

(happenstances of love).

At the windowpane,

a wistful cat, his eyes

reflecting the murmuration

of starlings in the sky,

the gappy smile of a girl

running along the street.

At eventide I rush out

to the poisoned breeze

of downtown and canalsides:

people hop on the buses

like cattle ready to be put down

or living in blindfolded bliss...

...sitting on the stone ledge

in the portico of a church

like a beggar at sunset

I write sensual poems in dead leaves

falling from my mind

(happenstances of love,

remembrances of you).

A blackbird stays along with me,

a waxing moon, the aroma

of early peaches in March.