under the basking moon
the cool tide shifts
for sweat hides swiftly now
leaves tremble and turn
squirrels bury their treasures
the mother is tucking the edges now
the silks of spiders grows vacant

things change, even in a small lifetime, I can only imagine the ripples of time over long periods, like eons, not here, in this urban town, the burbs, the typical jersey suburb, parcels of land measured out, a lawn, a driveway, the american dream, it seems, with gusto and plows, concrete and asphalt, light poles strung like christmas decorations lining the parade route of the daily back and forth, I heard this was once farmland or even a chicken coop, but that was a different lifetime, before mine, but in my short observation, I have seen a shift in some and none, most of the birds remain the same, cardinals, jays, robins and the like, the rabbits of jack in spades have been a main stay, nervous little critters, then there are those canadians who really love to stay here year round these days, you would think they might explore the further south, and move to florida in waves, but perhaps compared to nova scotia this is like miami down, maybe they were there when I was younger, but I did not much notice the curious minions of northern parkway dogs like I do now, little watch towers looking about but oddly they seem smart enough (unlike a chicken) to cross the road as I can safely say I have not seen a flattened one, and least I forget the slyest of them all, the slinky foxes that skate along the hedge rows and meander in the shadows, to think all this life swirling about in just this tamed space, all it would take is a blink, and nature would roll into place.