There’s a breeze in the air
and big flowering bushes are taking over the sidewalks
much to everyone’s glee,
as they peruse the outdoor menus and those windows-full of over priced, raw cotton caftans.
Normal June, plain-old-tourist town. Nothing has changed as the season rolls in.
The world is churned-out, wobbling on its axis. We’re dizzied by death and think pieces.
But the breeze in the Berkshires still blows.