where a tree
sheds its red
and a breeze
scuffs a leaf
across the road,
and it flutters
on a stone
nicked by the blade
of a mower,
and the chopped growth
slowly turns to brown,
the sun is late
and level with the fence
when an engine hums,
a dog lopes
across the road,
and a bumper hits it
with a thump and yelp
that leaves a jet of blood
on its pelt and paws
sprawled in the weeds
while a cloud passes
like a puff of breath,
and beyond the fence
the sun flares and sets
at the level of your eyes.