Kickbacks

The imprinted white

tufts the blue sky

looking like roots from below

frozen by the October air.

They hang among the blue,

the first shade a child sees.

The blue,

not the shade of jazz horns.

The white hangs.

Below

are where the colors loom:

sprung from spruce,

made of maple.

And then they fall.

One by one

or

wind-blown approaching

like street gangs

with no guns,

no smoke, and

no graffiti spray cans.

Unstopped

uninhibited

the colors come.

We want to hear, did we miss an angle we should have covered? Should we come back to this topic? Or just give us a rating for this story. We want to hear from you.

Loading...

Loading...