our balconies when we are still

we do what we can with our little  space, our little time

 

we grow plants in the corner of our little balconies

 

we place windchimes where we can hear them from our beds when the storms come

 

we place the birdfeeders close to the window to bring our unspace closer

 

we notice from our little balconies that the women walking by are pretty and the men are distinguished

 

we smell the bread baking,  the coffee brewing; we partake of this sacrifice of someone’s hands to feed us

 

it forms our little space,  our little  time, to notice the hands,  to drink what is offered; it grants us more

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