Standing in the Balcony Air

I speak one language, but
out under the streetlight canopy
standing in the balcony air
with the mist of early morning
resting on the banister

a dog’s bark echoed between
the townhomes, I imagine
that the sound wrapped around
the chimneys like a set of
wind-blown leaves

it was so lonely and old
and so frighteningly energetic
I wanted to translate it, then
I thought, have I done this before?

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