The drying sun scalds
A tree of drooping red pods
The humming planes are low enough
To brush with jealous fingertips
Shrubbery sprawls over landscape
Like frazzled starfish
A name- Jason- engraved
In concrete not yet dry
A squeaking rope fastens
A willful flag to its pole
Windows of a lonely skyscraper
Glow pink in sleepy sunlight
Choruses of weary air conditioners
Ricochet between adobe houses
Breezes dance along baked concrete
And chase us inside