When I come home from work
the sky is already grey,
brindled, flocked with clouds
a right turn out of the parking lot,
down Central Park
to the busy intersection of Grand River Road
where I bump onto the sidewalk paralleling
four lanes of divided traffic
in a couple minutes I turn again
into my complex
stop by the bank of mailboxes
to see if anyone knows I’m here
then on to my townhouse with
its bench by the door
which I crank open in order to get
my bike inside before releasing the latch
turn on the hallway light—
as shadows begin to lengthen.
Shut the blinds and eat dinner.
Outside, in the woods it is darker,
the leaves blackening the ground.