Through the token trees my eyes do wander,
to the crowds as they ebb and sway,
the Sun with its Summer death grip no longer,
and the bikes left deserted all day.
Hours where mortal life is wasted,
but what’s really wasted to life?
Leaves blowing flowing slowing
sparse plantlife dying-
sparse life shows billion strong.
Brief hungers roaring yet easily sated,
Long hungers humming till release of death.
Sometimes, to me, the day is too long.