When the radio in my car broke I started to notice the trees.
I began to stop exaggerating the color of leaves,
how their reds and oranges need no wordy embellishment.
I started to open my window and smell the wet pavement
after morning rain. Crows on the phone line,
their blackness and stubborn dignity. I even noticed my hands
gripping the wheel, the small dark hairs, the skin,
the knuckles and the perfect blue veins.
Neil Carpathios
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/no-more-same-old-silly-love-songs/
