A concrete desolation.
The air shimmers
And ripples with heat.
A hard, gray monotone
Radiates outward,
Paving the land over
With the rubble of progress.
But here
And there
Are saving graces.
Dandelions growing
Up through the cracks.
Dragonflies swooping
Through clouds of gnats.
Hawks perched
Atop high street lights.
Raccoons tipping over
Collections of garbage cans
Before scurrying off
Into the night.
Nature waits,
Silent and patient,
For us to be gone.
Ever ready to reclaim its birth.
