First say something about the stuff
that’s lying around outside the house,
on the deck, in the driveway,
and about the grackles and sparrows
moving their beaks in clumps of sumac,
catalpa, and oak. Now slip in something
philosophical, some question concerning
choice or hope. Perhaps a generality about
mortality, love or the news of how our
disappearance is not news to many of us, how
we often slowly fade fully aware of our thinness,
the transparency of our being. Leave this

as a question to be pondered by the reader,
then make sure the lines are arranged right.
 

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