Albany.

The streets buzz
with bugs and lies
as the sun escapes
and the moon hides
in the twilight.

A fire a block away
grows gently on the garbage
it feeds, rising
to the occasion.

Birds swarm, near misses,
like atoms in fusion;
a murmuration, alive,
unsure if they should fight
or flee.

It’s quiet now, relatively,
and maybe somewhere
across town,
a Father puts his Son
to sleep until dawn.

Ghosts.

Inspiration