The hose snakes, benign and cool, over the fence and into the yard
And water pours soundlessly into the familiar dirt beneath the dying dragons
It wets the burning asphalt
And it is the smell of the hot asphalt and cool water that is home
It is also the half a dozen strawberries dripping with cold tap water
It is the scrape of sunwarmed pavement after dark on bare toes
It is the sunset that makes the trees glow every different color
And the distant headlights swooshing in the dark of too early morning
The tap of fingers on keys in the between of today and the next
The scratch of paper and pencil and the smudge of a ***** palm
The sticky childish joy of ice cream
There is also the promise of crumbling leaves
And rain tapping on the roof at midnight
And wind gusting through treetops and hair
And the constant threat
Of impermanence