Circling the perimeter of the compound at high noon
the lines are where I left them
at once craved and ahborred.
Nature is scrub pines between this squat structure and that
tended grass that falls to fall
a nothing that cuts the sky.
A lone observer, new today, perches on the roof above the second story
long neck turning slowly round at things unsaid.
I pause in the September sun, still too warm for comfort
and observe it observe.
White on blue, brown on gray.
5 miles south there is ocean
and from here the road leads nowhere.
Tomorrow I tread again.