Early morning
the large grove of trees
on the other side of my window
sleeping in
after a long clear night
of people punching holes in the sky
and filling them with loud bangs of color.
Birds of all sizes and colors
searching hard for breakfast
on a still and windless morning
after a long clear night
where the wind stayed off-shore
and held back the night fog
while it watched the show
it usually denies.
The trees stir slowly now
as the wind makes its way home
and people rise slowly from celebrating
after a long clear night.
—after a long clear night in San Francisco, July 4, 2025
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