October Poem 42: Building Community

Like the siren of the neighbor’s tail lights

As he scraped ice from the windshield, the trees

Waver through the silver of a full moon

And decry the hawk and blade that spread the

Hardpan of dampened earth to the daub and

Waddle communities of people who

Say hello when stepping out to check the

Mail. The communities who may know your

First name but not the color of your eyes.

The communities who can only look

On your face until the small talk gets stale.

The communities who lift the blinds just

Enough to be out of sight until the

Neighbor’s car is warmed up and driving on.

 

 

Expect

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