Photos captured by : Gwen Moiles (@gah_when)
Words assembled : Spring 2017
At the house on the corner,
the jasmine rises up and over the fence,
shimmies up the siding,
submerges the roof in vines.
The trumpeter lets out a peal of admonishment–
brassy trills that vibrate through the air
into our hearts,
staying there for just a moment–
and then flitting back out into the humid almost-dawn.
The roof caves under the vines
buckling in its incense
windows clear of glass,
smog, smudge, obscurities.
A cat preens,
stretches in the bending u of the frames.
The trumpeter ceases his swan song.
The light rises and casts shards–
a reflection a mirroring