Hawk's eye I have from my rooftop
Touching the rough hot shingles with my fingertips
Up here I see so clearly everything neatly mapped out in front of me
Perfectly square lawns
Perfectly parked cars
Perfectly painted lines section the lanes of the road.
And I look at all of this with puzzlement and concern
I wonder what the children play four houses down my street
And I wonder who owns that red sedan three blocks down
A whirligig flutters past just inches from my nose
And I can't help but laugh when I notice
That the height of no maple exceeds my rooftop
And that the perfectly painted parallel road lines
Recede to some indefinite intention.