The oak on the square's in leaf again.
Branches frisk the air for the moves
of dancers who tangoed up to doormen
they thought were contest judges.
A girl striding into her future
folds her arms on an undone past
she wants to dance her way out of
but hasn't learned the steps yet.
The leaf gatherer mends his rake.
He can wait. And while he takes
a breather with a cigarette
the solstice slips through his fingers.
Pigeons in the shade turn hunger
into an act tourists can get in on;
nursing their routine through
the mute debris of student snacks.