Yard (revision)

I’ve come to appreciate the confinement

of my backyard. I don’t think it smothering

as a doting lover anymore, but it is just

as accommodating. It’s not as pretty as it used

to be, but it is still a part of the home

that I grew up in.

 

It flexes as the moods of the day change

and oscillate. Then the sun draws into slumber

and the night pervades. It is as quiet and still

as a hiding child. The only sound is the faint

crackling of  burning paper at the end of a cigarette.

 

The winters are crisp and will numb

any part of your body that is not covered. The reflection

of the sky as I sit at the edge of the pool is stunning.

Water like a lens to an unsettled future.