One small bird stretches a vocal chord,
mixing with the smooth carriage
of wind and leaf.
Purple crab apple blossoms slouch
over a grey panel fence.
Streets reach between tall narrow houses,
siding, grey brick, red brick,
bright signs advertising error-
not this way.
Concrete telephone poles holding
street lamps over us.
Did you see the leaves poke through the fence,
the stop sign concealed by a shrub?
The bearded man walking a hairy dog?
The years have thickened my skins,
though I look weather-beaten and mangey,
my eye is keen as a hawks
and my hearing discerns like a razor.
My gait is swift and silent.
Few notice me anymore.