Under the starry skies and the colder days, in streets lined with wrappers of Milky Ways,
Ledger lines are sidewalk cracks accentuating where the high notes are,
Hiding who the ones on the low roads are,
Shade of broken twigs too light to block rain,
Frost on the ground not thick enough to show from whence footprints came.
Electric fence invisible from self defense, next door the front yard full of rocks hides pebbles of gold,
The golden geese flew south but the wind came and told all the weathervanes that there was something in this urban forest of junk and lost dreams.
This way, they pointed, down from the north comes a city winter for this city autumn.