1
Mist veils the apricot branches and trunks—
magpies and crows spread across the grass in silence—
2
White flags run uphill
from the street to a neighbor’s construction site—
in this near distance, the flags are tiny flags of surrender—
3
No one can see a line that divides “ours” from “theirs”—
no one shouts, whines, or threatens—
4
Looking at the lines in his palms, he does not prognosticate
but sees a history of struggle—
along the sloping driveway,
a cluster of daffodil shoots—
5
As he inhales, gratitude runs through his fingers—
exhaling, he notices mailboxes on posts—
6
Remnants of hail, white, over grass—
sunlight comes and sounds like copper chimes—
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