Swaying giants conduct orchestra of green,
rustle-flutter blue breeze, notes crunching
in scratches between limb and limb above

sheared grass tufts too short to bend
and a woman’s stroller trailing a baby
blanket sweeping pollen dust over

concrete while a little boy, blue hat reaching
my chest, makes no sound (how can that be)
and walks backwards, one sandaled foot

behind the other, bright eyes fixed on
a place within, and I wonder what else
there is you want me to feel hear see.

-jennifer j. camp