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