cold trains
viewed from the breakfast window
they slide by
fluttering like old nitrate film
burning gardens in their passing
stirring up dust
trapped in a gleaming shaft of sunlight
it is what we see
only the edge of enlightenment
only the lonely fragments of truth
captured like so many wishes
in a bottle
set out to sea
and the lines of clothing
set out to dry
they are ghosts in the arbor
sugar plum fairies in the wood
and summer girls
in their summer dresses
taking strolls on the glittering pavement
while the acacia smiles
and black eyed susan
she gives a knowing wink
back now
to the eyes of morning
sifting through the newsprint
flour spinning off the rolling pin
pressing out scones in the old clay oven
a character belting out lines from the summer stage
soon blankets will lay like carpet
suffocating the manicured lawn
and we will come from our homes
and from our cool ash hearths
for the season so invites
the atmosphere filled with dashing attire
bowties and stocking feet abound
they settle in
for the long night is coming
and with the strumming
the celestial heart dips slowly out of sight
calming the little ones
it marks the ending of the day
for when this chapter closes
with lovers pulling tight
we will seek a new beginning
in the morning sunday light
-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 7/2/12
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