Davis Square

These streetlamps are strange -
I can barely tell them apart from trees
casting their autumn yellow light
illuminating passing traffic in A-Minor. Goldenrod

fingers of hay on brick, windy
pigeons' launchings moving small mountains, iron
masked statues watching and I
regard closely their shifting limbs, small motions

of their eyes. Sun and shade casting
definitions - your hands half-covered in uneasy
sunshine, you and I quietly obersrving the calm
inside the shade, its restless

inhabitants scuffing, shuffling, limping and dressed in green wool,
or workpants, footsteps track through the haystacks, our voices
looking like that man in the leather jacket, tired, a little
overworked and sitting to breathe a moment or two before wondering.

This is the place where trees are centered in granite mandelas.