again

Bluebird

Flashing red lights  

yellow

unlike yellow daylilies

but more like asters

on the last day

of school, spring

blowing blues harp

through open windows

for a lady in a Lincoln

Bluebirds

reflected in her

black-eyed Susan

shades.

We take to the sidewalk

for a better look at

tempera

sunflowers splashing

crooked blue houses

bending the thin

stems of front walks

that paper the cove

above the seats

if there were any

seats

driver stowing the lift

waving goodbye, eyeing

the idling queue.

You scissor a pretty

young woman with love

she’s waving back  

waltzing

your ball and chain

backpack, the dog

pretending not to hear

the weary sigh

of the wheelchair

watching empty

from the front porch

as we take back

to the street

receding in the fisheye

mirror gleam of the

Bluebird.