Tantrum Barb

There on the threshold below to the garden In front of the rest of the city that ends at the Banks of the river and stretches back to me and Holds a square patch of backyard where I’m looking at Bunches of children, some vexed at their parents Take colorful strings draped cross branches of lemon and Orange emit from the ends of it, seem like A galaxy cupped in a leafy red canopy (And I feel the breezes blow, pushing storms on my arms I'm out on the tips of spires, you can stare into the sea)