Pondering the glimmer of broken car glass from the night before.
Sitting on my stoop, breeze in my hair.
Kittei scratches on the glass of the front door, seeking only to be with me, not 'out' from the stairwell you roam.
Crickets in continual refrain.
The stacatto of katydids, 'i-it-itch'.
Compressors calling 'wh-wha-what', again, and again.
Haunting child-like echo-cries of bard owls in this urban forest, gargling 'who? who? y-yo-you know who!'
Waning moon, clouded by wispy veils, branches of thought, leaving ideas.
Distant train whistle, engine and rail.
Red fox, you run past me, twenty feet from my two to your four, fluffy tail held horizontal, I say 'hi', as you run further on your mission, furtive and intent.
You were my third fox.
I'm glad I was awake for you.
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