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)

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