On Gazing out the Window
Three windows, full length and narrowPeter Clarke
face southwest and draw in the light,
diffused by a dense overgrowth
of hedge and bush disguising a wall.
A lawn, looking like a dishevelled coat
contains a bed of untrammelled shrubs.
Table and chairs, strewn about on the deck
outside, confirms human lack of care.
Snakes or tarantulas lurking about
are not the major threat to life,
rather volumes of dog shit held aloft
by grass, primed for the unsuspecting shoe,
deposited by the inside mutt, whose
production rivals his methane counterpart.