screened through the mist of a spring evening
warm grey light haunts the window
passes through the glass
and dusts the desks edge the floor
a melancholy pollen over generative pages
smells of wet asphalt and cut grass
pass in through thin cracks
where humidity contorts the frame
i am half comforted by the intrusion
and i see the birds have eaten all the seed
from the feeder in the four small trees
this side of the neighbors’ walk
and look forward to the leaves
that will swallow the view
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