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🪶

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