Oyster white knights of the avenues
Of cloud laden repositories filled with
silver'd showers , of blown flowers begging for
green lush ground
Bicycles , pedestrians , stiff March breezes
Front porch neighbors , paper boy deliveries
Purple , pink and red skyways of dusk
Robins returning from the south , smoke returning
from neighborhood hearths , gas lighting o'er
manicured lawns
The first born star to call my own
To follow home* ...