Sunrise
the streets
are clear of cars
the fountain
in the square
is churning out a cloud
of cotton candy
where children were
just yesterday
just last year
and the bunny’s in the back
waiting for her to wake up
and the fog is hovering
over Rosemere
like steam
off a coffee pot
and the guy
on the bicycle
has no teeth
and the woman running
has no makeup
and the lady with her bag
doesn’t need any
and the guy sitting outside his can
is puffing his own cloud
and the blades of grass
are growing
there at Garden Hills
where the living and the dead
are gathered
and spread
TL