soft winds rustle through the leaves
and a spiderweb stretches
its silky string to the porch,
no doubt sticking to me like glue later
after I have forgotten it is there.

she neighbors’ raised voices muffle
through their walls and our yard,
but the street stays quiet
with no traffic.

I wait for the warm to wrap me up,
the sun catching my skin
through the wave of tree branches above.

everyday,
this is it.