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By Daniel Vega

Through the layers of leaves that are scattered
steps I’ve seen before
as class begins in minutes
a second suddenly captured by a cool breeze

It’s the right amount of sun rays
peaking in-between trees
overlapping, casted shadows
a certain angle when both
are interchangeably dancing

The weatherman doesn’t mention
the songs of the birds

No one could ever
be prepared for a beauty overdose

Comfort given by uncontrollable forces
which
embrace our daily lives

This is
life massaging weather Los Angeles weather
tourist awakening weather
weather people regret leaving

I walk into class
sit down
look down

Shit!
My fly’s open.

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