street

A Street in Toronto

The tall Jack Pine with two trunks
One curving away, one straight standing
With bushes of needles
Forming it's own blurred visage
To try to focus is to adjust your reason

The fir droops its strings of
Coniferous softness

The massive walnut
Black and reaching
With strong arms disproportionate
To their circumference
Wide births of leaves
Crossing the road and
Filling the yard

This old neighborhood is
Quiet of action
But Kingston Road drones
In the distance
Trucks and traffic at
All times consistent
These days are full
They can't hold much more
But this street is empty
Except for the trees