There is a pointlessness to it: walking --I don’t want to make too much of it,
the young are designed to fly the nest--
but every morning the sun lifts over
the hill outside your window and casts
the shade into a silver screen of sorts
and so I lean against your door
to catch the flick--a trailer really,
content to play in this room only--
of everyday moments, nothing too dramatic,
jumbled days all, but what a movie.
It always knocks my socks off.
