Poem 38: Fragment of Other People

I find myself looking into the back yard,
at the plastic wagon with the leaves,
and thinking this is my adventure now,
in the house, around the block,
little stanzas of ordinary, and me
trying to sift through them for glints.
I'm happier that you are here.
There is no less discovery in a smile,
but still, the rain, the peeling paint,
the dog that needs to be walked --
next to our photos, our windows,
our escapes...