Morning Song

My fingers are full of music

and the backyard with inspiration

blowing

respite from hazy summer beats.

Boring birds sing hallelujah

on electric vines, in harmony with

the B-side of the wind,

tracks laid down in suburban trees.

And doves mourn the passing of

the mellow night, the morning

traffic swelling like a symphony:

a shell held to the ear bringing whispers

of the Pacific Coast Highway.