on the bus

From yesterday evening: i’m on the top deck of the bus, half-reading, half-dozing in the sun. There are trees by the side of the road, taller than the bus, leaves brushing against the windows. When the bus stops to let people off, a few young leaves reach through the open window. Against the dull plastic colours of the bus their green is incredibly bright and alive. They seem curious and joyful, like young animals bounding about sniffing everything strange. When the bus moves off they brush against my face. There seems a kind of laughter in the touch.