Miami: Second Thoughts.

Mosquitoes.
Is there anyone who speaks English?
Are you honking at me?
Moisture.
Is this for real?

But then...


To My Home.

I am an Oak, grounded in your soil ;
I come and go but will always stay,
Where long ago my seed was planted.

I reach far but stand,
In your light, my branches grow;
In time, my leaves will drift
And leave new buds to spring.

I am an Oak, rooted to you,
My home, where I will land
But never fall.