Late for Friday Poetry Blogging.

February Saturday.

Look up.

Past the yoga moms,
Deluxe strollers juddering
In time to their firm
Bikram butts.

Look up.

Past the faint lemon sunlight
Streaking the marquee
Across the street.

Look up.

Past the pigeons
Lofting, spinning
Freewheeling into infinity.

Look up.

See the trees
Dipping crimson shoots
Into the lake of sky.

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