Aubade

A crow
with open wings
on the neighbor’s roof.

A beagle mix 
I do not recognize, trotting alone
down the far sidewalk.

Tracks
of squirrel, cat, maybe others
in new snow.

Cars parked in front
of homes with their curtains drawn
until their mornings begin.

I forget, sometimes,
that this is also a true face
of my country,

marvel at how many
have found a way
to sleep soundly here,

even in daylight. Even
as peace is failing.
Even as rough beasts

prevail, movement
apparently free from care
and caution continues.

I am afraid
to step out. Deal
with it, I tell myself.

Like the crow on the roof
with raised wings, look
bigger than you are.

The stray dog who 
trots free to spite the law
says, deal with it.

The tracks say
deal with it, be gone 
before you are seen. 

The houses and cars 
say deal with it; safety exists,
if only temporarily.

I am the fool here,
the crazy guy, the contrary
telling you what I feel. 

It doesn’t make me
less glad for peace
outside my windows

that I am
on edge
most of the time.

I just long
to sleep in
more often.