she wears emerald in the summertime
and winks at the boys in the park
who stare at her skirt riding up her thigh
she hangs from trees until it grows dark

never minding the voices that float
into her ears from the sidewalk
of the empty kindness of ghosts
hopelessly trying to fill themselves up

when the moon graces the sky and shines
she counts her blessings by its dim light
there’s trees and air and flowers alive
she catches them swelling in her sight

the moon composes a secret melody
the flowers play guitars if you listen closely
her head nods along until it drifts off
and she turns around to give them a hug