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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