The orange cup
Beside the path
So out of place
In my late afternoon walk
Through sere winter grass
And bare willow.
Tossed here by someone
Seeing with different
Eyes.
The disharmony
Makes me aware of the whining
Of tires on the nearby highway
Which I had thought to have left behind.
I close the lid on the cup
Hoping to seal the noise
Inside.
But it is too late.
And now I have this cup
In my hand
Which i cannot throw down
Beside the path
Because you may see it
And it will disturb your walk
And you will think it tossed there
By someone seeing
With different
Eyes.