East Palo Alto, California

The cool air of East Palo Alto this morning,

benign winter in Redwood shade,

aseptic, aromatic needles of

air up my snout 

show the world pure,

make me love the place.

Then there’s the death of a large insect

that hit the water and fluttered a while,

set up some waves and died.

A small death. My small life.

A pungent blue morning,

temperature rising.