Trees

Trees

We whiz down the road lined with poles and wires, boards and pictures,
They hook the eye because they are close and we are whizzing by.

There is green behind all this.
Soften the eye, open the gaze

The trees are waving
Enthusing in the wind.
Soft palettes of every green
Shining in the light, drawing in the shade
They move
And we breathe.

We stop in town for a beer at the bar
And wander outside to sip.
An old music buddy strolls up
And fishes a cigarette butt out of the pail on the ground.
Then he finds another for a friend who doesn't come in.
Small talk. We buy him a beer. He slurs because he has no teeth.
His eyes are bright and blue, his face a little lopsided and caving into lines. 
He is winsome and cordial now.

I look across the street.  Buildings and wires.
Softer gaze
The trees
They are waving in the wind.  I breathe.