Circa 1988
A renaissance rooted in rich juvenilia
Before the brisk tides of advancing change
Began to close in on my childhood predictions
My thoughts still turn to those static porches,
Dull green lawns and somnolent streets
Where seasoned houses armored in brick
Stand firm in a drowsy, humid haze
Where concrete sparkles in sweltering sunlight
And parked cars shimmer with judicious colors
A warm breeze gradually infects each block
Equipped with the tang of freshly cut grass
Sundry scents from sun-faded flowers
Radiate from a vine-crippled fence
Blue jays sip from a half empty birdbath
Oak trees spill over dappled curbs
Backyard clutter and neglected toys
Wait idly by between the houses
Staring from behind a chain-link gate
With the slightest trace of human sadness
The temperate drone of evening cicadas
Rises and falls like a mock ocean shore
A lawn sprinkler chatters, an evident metronome
Soaking a sidewalk in effortless strokes
Suburban sorority gathers its nest
As pulses decline in unsung isolation
A peaceful oasis of untainted sanity
Waits at the end of all journeys deterred
