When passing by a dumpster,my eye is caught:
bits and pieces
of other people's days and plans,
a pile of brightly colored posters
ripped away,
a bit of magazine,
(a bite of pizza
temptingly portrayed) --
and all the raw torn edges
create a sharp sweet harmony:
a clothesline, ruffled in the wind,
a garden glowing
in the light of incandescent tulips,
a children's playground
of bright raincoats,
discarded by the swings
when the sun emerged
from behind a single pale blue cloud;
a pink prom queen
walking into her first dance.
* * *
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