The elms stretched themselves in indolent joy,
arching over the street that lay in green shadow
under their loose tent.
Andrea Cohen- Where the Sugar Dollars
Where the sugar dollars
have not yet reached is
Fanny Howe – Near Miss
I almost met you
On a Saturday
The wind blew easterly.
There was a jar of mums
On a table near the window.
and not nocturnal
What I aspire to is the example of the day moon,
seeing and being seen,
emeritus, laying my moon hands,
which are as immune from prosecution