Watching, Prescribing Poem by Doug Blair

Just my street

And the green bags are curbside

The roaring truck soon to visit.

That marmalade cat two doors down

Cocked on the grassy knoll

Bird-lunch in focus.

That father laid off

Trimming the lawn

To keep from drying up.

New car, shiny black Hyundai

Getting the oohs and aahhs

From the envious younger set.

No one addressing

The monthly payments.

Young boy

Kicking the stones

Almost going in reverse

As afternoon classes beckon.

Retired nurse

Still loves the smell

Of clean sheets

Hanging some out to flutter.

Postperson bunching

Her next mail drop

Holding government issue

Invoices, sad news

Or other gossip in her hot, speckled hands.

And few will stop

And smile with cheer

And offer the “thumbs up.”

But still apparently

Fellow travelers

On my street.