How nice to watch you
without your knowledge.
Screwdriver in hand,
you adjust the metal flag,
tightening too much
it’s stuck halfway up,
back a bit, perfect.
You move it up and down
a couple of times.
You look inside the box
even though it’s Sunday.
I can see your thoughts
crossing your face
like clouds across a sky.
You head in,
ducking under a cluster of oranges
held out like gifts
over the sidewalk.
Published in ZuZu’s Petals, The Rag
Photo by Aubrey Odom on Unsplash