there is nothing like a night walk
in early spring with blossom laden
branches shedding petals over
sidewalks children scrawled with chalk
filling the life-recycled air
with million-year-old scents
intermingled with the chemical clean
exhaust smell issuing from laundry vents
the streetlights sputter alive their cones
of light and mothers call their kids in to eat
and bathe and rest their play-weary bones
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