CITY WALK II

In the spirit of disclosure, I would like to share something trivial, reflexive     Under
shadow of a huge cloud     You know, this used to be a meadow     Dandelions &
everything     Folk names like lion's tooth, folk names like tell-time     What are
shattered bird's eggs a sign of     Called facsimiles, now obsolete     Geese in a Z
instead of a V?     Will metaphor never die?     The trees here have no leaves, just
tiny white lights     It's eerie warm for the season     Under my concurrent consideration,
some half-assed theory     Even after it's dead, wood still breathes—it absorbs
and exudes humidity     Why are there no great female composers?