Nearby lawn sprinklers, distant trucks,
Birdsong, breezes, and the tinny notes
Of a long-ago recorded piano mingle
And congregate in the demi-hush
Of a suburban dawn late last summer.
The cosmos is represented by one
Morning star that’s not a star, the moon
Hanging an oblong head in western pines,
And a disappearing wave from Orion.
The cat gnaws a just-caught grasshopper,
Adding tiny crunching as the tinny piano
Stops, but the birds and the trucks go on.