fence rows

fencerowa fragrant breeze flows through the window
amidst sirens. the 24-hour news channel is on

but I don’t listen.

the february breeze is cool not


rose branches – thorny and dead but
sweet. helicopters whirl.
sheen curtains dance

the picture of Jesus looks up
past the grandfather clock.

tissues strewn across the sofa
toys all over the floor

pictures lead up the stairs.
I stare at a schedule
and cross out so many things.

summer is better
after time passes
and water slides open.

flowers grow with weeds
among blue grass decorated
with fence rows never-ending.


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