still morning sidewalk
popped out of my reverie
by a bubble wand
in recognition
her hopeful smile widening
the fourth time we pass
tinted glass windshield
trying so hard to be seen
such chic sunglasses
raising my window
crazy man on the corner
yelling at the car
father and daughter
exchange half-hearted lectures
"no more couch jumping"
drowned under their song
the narrow path caught swirling
a sea of blackbirds
sparkling in spring light
spinning from a single thread
thin caterpillar
inappropriate
these men pulling on their beards
during work luncheons
black and white ahead
I start talking to myself
so that the skunk knows
her nose starts to twitch
rustling in the bone-dry weeds
four jack rabbit ears
Saturday at dawn
looking for a nutcracker
for noisy squirrels
