the chain-linked fence droops from its original support constant gravity with rusty edges path worn around the inside territory the dog loves to patrol? Rumi marks his place in the rust
someone painted the door blue there are no screens on the screened porch next to the grey garage Rumi pants as his nails click the concrete
brown trim cosmetic job next door black awnings don't match anymore
crocuses reach up from muddy grounds already forgot yesterday's snow Rumi circles in & on & around the purple petals Uh oh
yesterday's plastic bag still in the coat pocket
sorry little flowers you could use the compost but it's the law pick it up take it home, warm in the bag
an old woman watches across the street long, dark hair parted straight in the middle, long grey roots
in a white plastic chair she smokes, behind her in black capital letters 'JESUS' on a white board in the window
faded yellow house frames the sign
hard working chainsaw in the back yard
shiny beige Cadillac circa 1986? not one scratch sunlight and me in the tinted window
the breeze is barely noticeable
Rumi smells the ivy growing under unidentified tree without leaves I don't recognize the bark
