The wind has turned into an unruly monster
Shaking the trees, whipping
the bushes
I stall, occasionally,
like a seagull.
The sun is out,
glinting at the side of my spectacles
attracting brightly coloured
clothes, strollers,
babies
The light blurs my eyelashes
as I look up.
The light green of leaves
is turning an orange-
brown
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