Empty branches waiting for buds and leaves to cover and nourish them.
The “No Pee Zone” sign, bent to one side as if it had offended some dog and its owner.
A Jeep parked in front of a home where the playful sounds of children ring out from inside.
The unmarked police blazer whizzing by with a few other cars on a usually busy street making me feel a little guilty to be out.
Less cared for homes—praying for those tucked away and surviving inside.
Birds laughing from a distance.
The boxer, fierce between the slats of its picket fence, its owner peeking out the the door then disappearing again.
A car heeding a stop sign when no one would have known otherwise.
The city park in the gully, empty and quiet.
The smell of someone smoking, exiled by their habit to the outdoors.
The eyes of a woman, her body hidden from sight by her many treasures on her porch.
A street too easy to cross for this time of day.
A person in the distance. Is he coming toward me or going away?
An Asian food store, a closed sign in its window for the past several months, with shelves partly stocked.
The older man who shuffles by our house each day shuffling along on the other side of the street.
At last, our home so lonely on the outside. Does it wish to share the warmth inside it with neighboring houses?