Delicate breeze brushing through trees (if you're quiet, you can hear) Frogs conversing (cricket sparklers crackling) People hustling (by the rolling ocean roads) The sky is clear, a blank slate (if you squint, you can see) Stars begin to etch themselves in the marble (yellow threads of old light) The spring air sweeps the chalky clouds away (floating down the back alleyway)
joint poem; my partner and I each wrote six lines on a decided topic, revised them, then I combined them by splicing my lines in parenthesis between his