The winds blow, strongly,
tossing clouds around
and leaves
and the dirt of an inner city.
It is cooler,
more than I want,
yet my garden still beckons me.
The bright sun,
coming after days of rain,
blinds me,
yet I group,
feeling the fruit.
I feel the colors of the ripen fruit,
this one not quite ready,
the other over ripe.
Most times i am correct,
but not always.
My fingers seem to "see",
better than my eyes,
as i struggle with my strange, flat vision.
That is a description most do not know,
the glasses bring things together,
at a price.
I am uncomfortable talking about it,
but here i am.
The world shifts at time,
for depth to flat,
in mere seconds
and i do not understand why.
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