The left side of the house is a family of bricks
tucked into a blanket of ivy.
Some are darker than their brothers
and a handful are shy, hiding from me as I count them.
The white and tan colored cat waves at me
with its tail, in a leisurely gesture
a twitch so smooth and so slow that for a moment,
it feels like time's been suspended.
As I watch the cat and the minutes stretch out,
It feels like swimming in a puddle of time
like the puddle that's reflecting bricks and ivy
beside me.
I like to look at these bricks, at the wall
after it's rained, and the sky is gray
because the green of the ivy seems brighter
and the red-orange of the rain covered bricks is deeper.
On certain days when it rains, days like today
I don't want to stand here alone.
I'd like it if someone else appreciated the bricks
or appreciated the fact that I appreciate the bricks in an ivy blanket
Even the cat's run away.
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