Amusement

The caw of a morning crow wakes me from anxious half-dreams.
Occasional passing car tires sound like gusts of wind in the trees.
I dreamed a friend from Japan who was a sound engineer at a heavy metal show.
We stood up front in the dark waiting for the music, braced, as if for an explosion.
It's cool for the last day of Spring, but everything is as green as it should be.
The lilacs have all but passed, and I feel that loss more than I probably should.
The crow, in patterns of four, calls its tribe.
Grey squirrel arrives to eat 90% of what I meant for birds.
They tell you to write what you know.
My world here is small.
Yesterday, I went to the fair with a boy.
He had a plan to meet his friends last night and ride all the rides.
The Zipper and the Sky Master were the most intimidating.
For some, and I am one of these, thrill rides offer no joy.
I watched his face on the Hang Glider - eyes shut tight, grim set mouth, hardly enduring
Among all the other smiles and shrieks of delight.