Thin brown arms
safely secure themselves
in a little lawn chair
as the sweet old lady
sits there to stare
up at space.

With very little
light pollution
she can see
the majesty
of the evening sky
clearly.

The night is silent,
shaded by purple grey clouds
that cut across
the blinking expanse
at an awkward angle.

But this
evening’s bliss
is broken
by spastic shots
somewhere
down the block.

The sounds of a siren
causes tension.
Her stomach tightens
in fear
until she hears her
young sons voice.