In the morning when sidewalks are blue,

The dew bearing blades of grass bend to you,

End of night sentiments beckon you,

Kindly decline, then

Commute with the tailwind,

The sleep laden promenades blend to you.

Enter the weekday

The annuals apricate,

Feebly admire you,

Sigh at the sight of you,

Smile goodbye as you pass

And they wish you good luck in your class.

Exit the evening

The bushes are blushing,

The highways are heaving,

The oak trees confessing their love to you,

Swooning and flushing,

Their branches obstructing the traffic light's gleaming.

At night when the sidewalks are yellow,

The rhythm is slow and the timbre is mellow,

Machines and fluorescent lights purr for you,

Steeping your stroll in their square waves and shadows,

The sun-suckled structures of man are asleep,

And a choir of cicadas sings to you.