LA: mid-morning

the light fell
   softly, through the glass
from the worn carpet
     to soft roughness
of the pavement
  as the light draped
your cheekbones
and covered your arms
   the breeze,
sweet with jasmine
 deep from the grass
and the stone and
 those yellow flowers
  eddied
 between the houses
and the freeway thrummed
    the sparrows fell
   among the eucalpytus
and the palms, and the
 mourning-dove sat silent
on the phone line