Photo by Ricardo Perini

The children now 

Below my window call

No woodland here for miles

Just chirping voices

Trilling past

And car horns blast

Instead of cawing crow

The sidewalk grows a row

Of various pedestrians

In flocks

They come and go

And wander by 

In search of sun

And rain

And country sky

And only deep inside

They know

The concrete isn’t real

It isn’t  fresh turned earth

Or soft green meadow grass  

Or gravel road

Don Bishop Fine Art, Portland Oregon

Sara Mathews     February 2016