Along the avenue of shorn maples,
leaded lights are discreet – distantly,
the cathedral darkens in a rose sunset.
A piano lesson begins, as cars turn
into drives and a door opens broadcasting
the six o’clock news. At an upstairs
window, a woman holds a baby, sees
nothing in the crepuscular room, hears
only the snuffle of breath on her neck,
the small heart’s beat, the swaying lullaby –
amid ordinary, pink perspectives
of curbed greenery, herbaceous living
and bells telling the hours.