Now is when the squirrels splay over center lines, their innards bubbling into their incisors.

When the din of dogs ricochets off alley walls, but no heed is paid from windows beyond.

When squints confront the morning glare, and puddles in muddy ruts await a freeze.

When wind rustles life to chimes, and a distant table saw perforates their discord.

When the caws across the wires announce me, though I’m just a bleak soul below.

Now is when the search forgotten in sun, gnaws into gray light once again to remind me.

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