Under a sycamore tree© Lorenzo — Alchemist’s Pillow
a garland of six teenage girls
slung around a sidewalk bench
are practicing skittish dance steps.
They peer over,
ponder and ignore me
as I wander by
on my tightening drumhead.
There is someone wildly happy in me.
Don’t know who he might be, he left no name.
It’s not me shaking the lovesome tree,
but I am so full and glad of him just the same.