These broken blinds won’t shut all the way.
Yellow streetlights bounce their glow
off the browning leaves
onto the wet concrete. Through
the crack of naked glass are
deserted children’s toys, a lush lawn, and
a bird’s nest balanced bravely on a branch.
Every fresh drop of dew can be seen
sparkling so clean, and clear, and
crisp out in the air. Inside
the room is unruffled, but stuffy.
Comfortable, but way too safe,
Full of technology, scented candles, the
common cold, a stiff neck, and an
overflowing trashcan.
To live in a world of deep breathing, to
stretch out in the cool grass, to run in
the wind; it must be nice.
(org. 9/27/05 rev. 2/11/09)
