Suburban Spring

Dogs barking

Yapping

Yipping

Old people walking

Whiney

And withered

Trees that stand tall

With pretty white flowers

So white and delicate

Petals decorate their underbrush

Smelling an awful lot like fish

My fishy trees

And rough scraped knees

Are enough to have said

Helmets are more useful

When they’re on your head

Pumped up tires on the cruddy-old bike

Do nothing to stop the impact

Of a skull on concrete

Shoes are abandoned

When grass is fresh clipped

Running around

All bare feet and grins

Their hands coated in chalk and

Clothes held together by safety pins

Soft soil beds

For healthy flowers to spread

The sweet smell of dewdrops

On that bright spring day