Walking along the green path with buds
in my ears, too engrossed in the morning news
to listen to the stillness of the garden.
Don't need picket fences, brick wall,
or razor wire. Our home's protected by
prickly pear cactus and thorny bougainvillea.
My reckless shadow, landing on the twelve-lane
freeway down below this pedestrian bridge,
playing chicken with oncoming cars.
Clicking through images downloaded
from your camera. Those buskers haven't finished
playing, and already they're in your archive.
In a few billion years Andromeda Galaxy
will collide with our Milky Way, but worlds
come to an end every day.
Urban Tumbleweed: Notes from a Tanka Diary