The still grass Stands near alone Before the final crew comes With trucks and blueprints and concrete To slap together rent fortune For the white cadillac man.
Summer swinging madly Over empty lot
The post oaks Hesitate along lot edge, Wait to see what happens To the few brave mesquite: Better to stand on edges And wait Than venture To vulnerable heart Of empty lot.
Summer winging madly Over empty lot
The birds wing madly over Rarely dropping To the grass for seeds; They sit upon the postoaks At the edge And keep a watchful eye Upon the road. All wing madly to the edge: Grackles, swifts, and doves, The mockingbirds, all Save one persistent meadowlark Without a mate That sings each morning From the wire, One silly songster That loneliness has blinded And brought to chime Its idyll Summer song Over empty lot.