I walk to my balcony
The edge of the parking garage
Outside my door
Of the apartment building,
I own the space,
On borrowed time,
I get to my spot
And scan the landscape.
An air so pleasant as this
Cool and sitting on the nose
It's only earned after
surviving a night of wind
Thrashing and banging,
Much ado of not much,
on the windows and screens.
The tree line my eyes approach
Dark black
Full of life
Hidden by the night
Hidden by choice
In hole or in nest
A wall of black
But quickly thru which
A sparkling set of lights
Breaks the darkness,
Festive hold overs, surely,
From the late year
Windows glowing,
Obscured by the thrush
Not square
Squiggly, like a Van Gogh doorway
I pan to the left, the wide open loop of land
Skyscraper-less
Beset by tall trees on the outskirts
Near a mile round, I reckon
Cars moving along the tiny highway
Getting smaller and smaller
In my view as they go
Cars on the highway
Gaining size, bigger and bigger
As they come
These comings and goings
Lights in the night
Who am I to them?
But a speck with a hat
In a coat on a phone
Leaning on the ledge
Of an oblong concrete box,
Brutalist in make
Above a bit of it all
A part of the night.
Memorable sound, memorable images, memorable poem.