With the bell not ringing
and the compressors holding sway,
the conversation between acorn
and sidewalk was very one-sided
.
A fallen leaf listened, recalling the peace
of last night’s soft rain and a sliver of moon
between clouds that don’t tell time
.
An old woman with a young girl’s heart
watched the oaken shrubbery
and for a moment forgot her own
deportment, her sin, her dusty pockets
.
The tower held crows, doves, gulls,
and a smattering of leaves
as philosophy grew between the pavers
.
Someone somewhere read a poem
about a small town by the sea.
The Word Rummager 
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