Green chutes stretch sky high

Reaching for the sky above

Will they touch a cloud?

She speaks to be heard

She whispers, she screams, she speaks

She needs to be heard

Swimming through the trees

Pushing, pulling at the leaves

Courses a warm breeze

Weird to imagine

In the darkest of places

The sun still rises

I swear they’re winking

What do you think? Look up, there

The stars flirt with us

A revelation

Late into the night after

One glass too many

Sweet like wine outside

On a hot day under shade

A fly in the glass

The relationship

Between the moth and the flame

May be apt, but trite

Vines crawl up the wall

Built by masons and regents

As if out of spite

The clock ticks for me

Speeding ahead without pause

Except when you’re here