The ear too fondly listens For summer’s parting sighs,
-- A.E. Housman
There used to be a shop here,
now it is vacant room with a picture window
There once was a child's playhouse
in a backyard that is only weeds and scraps of plastic toys
On the sidewalk there are feathers, grey and black
residue from what were once birds
Someone's windchimes, frayed and tangled,
make half hearted music on windy afternoons
everyone else has left town
I'm just here to take notes