The mulberry's fat leaves wave and flutter,
their shade a cool blanket for the parched lawn.
Skateboarders pass in the bright street, laughing;
angled arms and legs describe the glide
of day past small white house,
frontyard fence, oak and pine and oleander.
The fall of light on each grey grain of
asphalt weighs it with a shadow lengthening toward night.
But how, as easily as voices break this calm,
the solid light is broken by fluttering leaves!
Needs reworking, I think- but, what the hell.
