Morning tears on the green
Bright with dawning sheen
Calm was over the grove
Thrashers hop from where they dove
Picking feeding and pecking
Chasing the tiny crawling
Whirlwinds of life around
Ignoring the peace for town.
Spinning hums on the ‘phalt
Fighting winter; polluting salt
No rest in sleep
No peace when we weep.
Alone in the grove, toad sits.
Holding simple, his wits
Nibbling a long blade, the long ear.
Searches to satiate free of fear
Dusk ambles over the heated day
Pacifying those who wish to fade away.