No one sits out here in this season
I heard them say
I am no one then as here I am
or maybe all this space is cool illusion
There was no sound on exit but birdsong
water dripping from places unseen
a canine barking in the distance
car wheels on a highway going north or south
Late afternoon the sun announces day’s slow denouement
I sip old wine that ought be poured out
remove my glasses so the view is softened
Through the veil of birch and poplar what is there
to see but layers of more birch and poplar half dressed
for possibility, a subdued anticipation
Someone will need to shovel the dog shit away from
the summer lawns awakening soon
Winter snow is such temporary camouflage🪶
