Fantasia Fragmental

If the color from today's flowers 
weeped with sound,
this quiet evening on the avenue
would crash like some big bang gig.

The colors condensed the winter over,
distilled and drenched and dumped
into cavernous, smelly whiskey barrels
swarming with bees.

A yellow jacket searches
for a place to pitch her tent,
for the long hot busy summer ahead.
The spring rain fills every bowl,
brews and broods.
The yellow jacket screws her mud 
to a camellia branch.

The water slows to vinyl,
the beach wood logs tattooed.
Waves like empty wine bottles fall
breaking into the fitful trash truck.