Neighborhoods

Oft’ times I stroll about meadows green

Or deep into the stately wood,

But more than not these measured treks

Traverse the local neighborhood.

I love a morning, crisp and clean,

Where mindfulness is understood,

But I avoid the burrs and ticks

If I simply stroll the neighborhood.

All these mirrored cookie-cutter houses

Built so long ago

Morphed by dwellers, claw and nail,

To suit their tastes and temperament.

 

At times, it can be better

Than a moving picture show,

And here am I to soak up

Every nuance, every element.

A chain-link-split-rail-picket fence

To hide-divide each precious patch.

Goblins, sprites and garden gnomes,

Sons and fathers playing catch.

This house, this lawn neat and tidy,

That one an ungodly mess.

Some with roses full in bloom,

Others fully flowerless.

 

Amazing all the sights you see,

A medley of the grim and good,

A blending of humanity exists

In every neighborhood.