Breezing hum of the road,
Egret flies through,
Sun steadies up.
The light changes from silhouetting the oak tree to
Showing off its bark’s grays, browns, hues.
The squirrels will come soon then
The dog will careen towards the glass,
Barking shouting reminding them and us daily who the bigger better species is.
But not yet. They’re not here yet.
And thus the stillness before more sights and sounds, is, just a bit still here.