The Volvo stops a few feet shy
of the crosswalk, the stop line,
the cracked door in the pavement.
Perpendicular to this drive, from the lawn
of the still-dark People's Bank, the ducks
head off to the marsh.
A young female stretches. She yawns, practically
pajama-clad in the entirety of her waking.
Her sister sits on all the good grass,
and she will not be moved.
A nip from somebody's mother
just as the light turns green,
and the brown birds pack up their night.
photograph by John Hanam
