Before they go the way of Checker cabs,
rotary phones, cassette tapes, or bootjacks,
let’s remember that riding to work on the upper deck
of a London bus as it brushed the skirted canopy
of trees in late spring was like stepping
into the green-lit rooms of shade and wonder
we’d been promised as children, a scratch
of branches along its red roof, the whoosh
of leaves music to a den we need to move
past to see we’ve been living in it all along.