In Suburbia We Are Never Alone

Where does the land end and the soul begin

The thin orange line of predawn seems immortal

As Sisyphus waiting for the boulder to roll

Heavy with morning dew

There are Tahoes, Tellurides and Tacomas

I-40 all exertion

Except the horizon

Presenting between rooftops and red buds

On 1/3 of an acre plots

Petunias are optional

There’s not much room with the sun

And the mockingbird’s songs

Their animated assurance

The day is here

In suburbia we are never alone

Inspired by Robert Hillyer’s Fog