Looking out over the sky, you are.
Looking down into my lap, through my hair
shining in the sunlight, too bright to see
heating my back through black shirt.
Keeping our faces shaded
squinting briefly toward the sky.
Listening to the motors
cars or motorcycles or whatever
the passing of tires on the road
the dog's lips smack
a single bird's... not a song, not a noise
the sound a bird makes.
and looking out.
and looking in.
un moving through the moments
no ticking of any clock
marred by progress
anxiety of all the All
Looking back into the sunshine in my hair
the dog's curious nose at my back
glowing, streaking threads
listen, sniffing curiosity
As the jet flies over,
the dog growls.
He knows something's no good.
Don't we all?
He patters away to look after you.