Maples opening red like it’s
fall all over. I’m against
reversals because suffrage.
The sky is streaky. Grubby
hands daubing charcoal. Children
though, can’t reach beyond
a kite. When’s the last time anyone’s
seen a kite sans ocean? April has
forsythia but hasn’t figured how
to bring this year’s goods. As
if. What could be good now?