Through Plumes of Smoke

Through Plumes of Smoke

Sitting at the base of the concrete steps
Her feet kicking at the wilting grass
She observes

Cars flying by
On the asphalt streets,
Modern weaving roads of life

Their exhaust clouding our vision
Distorting perception
Of this growing city

No birds
Chirp at the rising sun
No squirrels
Scramble up telephone poles

In our haste of creating a manmade world
We have thrown nature
To the gasoline perfumed dust