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.