An octave of shutters adorns
a Mount Curve house.
Seven red charm hybrid peonies
burst open in the Garden
of the Seasons. Six
porch chairs
left on a patio
(two Adirondacks).

A quintet of metal pieces
forms an abstract sculpture
on a lawn that refuses
to declare
“No mow May.”

A quartet of stop signs
stands tall.
A trio of doors.
One monitors

a duet of fire hydrants
on opposite street corners

as they reach toward one another
with a longing that cannot be

erased. A lone leash

attached to a white dog. Or,
a solitary red necked

e-scooter I so want
to tip over. Or,
the MINI Cooper

convertible parked
sideways in front
of my apartment building.
And, ever so rarely,

my equilibrium.