What Might Happen

Haunted by a bright glow dawn green flecked grass yet fresh mown lawn verses spring to mind each day sunshine has its lustrous ray Skies awash with vivid hue shades on canvass that imbue clouds of yellow, orange and red sculpt fair passages ahead Watch the coal-rimmed sweet moon peep linger when the world‘s asleep streetlight gaze on ice cold pier night owls hoot but never fear Children shriek in rippling stream playful chatter, oak wood dream mother, father, bound to smile now relaxing for awhile City dwellers rise again darting towards the nearest train wonder as they often do what might happen, something new