a slither of blue sky,
it's still summer

at the store, somewhere
in the middle of nowhere

a stop sign

the cafe,
and its message of the day

sunset in tranquility,
are you not?

ascending the stairs,
and expecting something different

at the beach,
a desperate getaway

stranded on Main Street,
on day one of the vacation

the remains of a forest,

a reminder of our past
and a future not so green

sidewalk chalk painting,
where is art?

lost,
on a monday afternoon

the art express bus,
just a bit over the top

if a tree falls in the forest,
and there is no one . . . .
I can hear it, loud and clear

is this bridge structurally sound?

endless summer. . .

if one could only wish

is that the only way out?

another urban decline,
masquerading as heritage

the first of the month
and only one month left of summer