Every Day I Go Out Down

Every day I go out down

but then a blackbird alights
on a cherry blossom branch
in the time of flying petals,

a squirrel by a railing stops
and runs, stops and runs,
in the shadow of the trees,

or a child holds up traffic,
high-stepping on the crossing,
bonnet-high, and runs away.

and the clouds, the clouds
billow white like opium smoke
as all the young trees reach and bow

and old trees hold up,
hold out their arms,
as if to say
This is it.

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Photo: Street scene with Laburnum, May 2021