Porch

Distant rushing traffic Spinning jet turbines The low rumble and soft whistle Metal tube squealing in a steel vacuum

Peppered by drops of ominous precipitation Rain unconvinced it should've fallen in the first place GuaCarole-green leaves of some common urban tree Limbs sway listlessly in a breeze equally lacking conviction

Afternoon dew clings to the edges Globular microcosms rage against single-cell chaos Eventually overcome by their own weight Plummet to grass Give their shape to the urban landscape Roaming nodes on a salivating tongue

The whole place Is loud Teeming with life, the water moves with it The air through it

Mothers and fathers with children in daycare Confusion Mechanical faculties of delivery and collection Groceries or garbage Sent away, picked up

The whole universe moves in and out A pulsing heart Distant rushing traffic Is blood fighting clots To keep its flow a perfect circle