A bag of groceries lands on the roof.

Or maybe it was a pair of seagulls

in dull-thudding tumble, summer

a morsel in their mouths. A teacup

shatters on the sidewalk. Or maybe

it was the sparrow scolding her new-

fledged children whose eyes cannot

see the clever silhouettes of cats.

The typewriter, unattended, taps

out the first words of a poem. Or

maybe it was the downy woodpecker

hammering the trunk of the dogwood.

Morning cracks in half, a melon thrown

against the wall.