Friday
The yellow-green tips of branches in the wind
oblige the other
like pedestrians in Manhattan
turning sideways carefully to let each other pass.
Friday, fraught, trembling, end of the working week,
what now?
You plead for a good time, a
release.
Who can resist your green gold teasing?
The “let me out of here” day.
Evening primed for promises, a green anticipation, the end
and beginning, tips swaying.