A Nonce Sonnet

What if we just sat here
Noticing small changes?
Is that permissible

As art? The gradual
Warming of the morning,
Calmer or windier,

The homeowners’ laundry
And small birds on the line,
The shifting of the light?

Not a beautiful spot,
But pleasant for this world,
Surely not exciting.

A man tromps by, sneezing.
For now, small birds are singing.