Old Logs Graying Concrete New People

Built and they did 
Arrive dreaming days
And sun and bones
And redwood stoic
Stayers shedding tiny
Cones grafting feet 
To asphalt curving
Backs trickling creek
Cream sky without
Pause within doubt
Conversations in 
Step dwellers on
Late afternoon foci
Former paper screens
Lucid birds telling
Like as song