Not Finding Them Home

None of the hatches are battened
In the village in late August.
A large cat dozes in the grass

Beside scattered rakes and trowels.
The planter boxes overflow.
A coffee mug and magazine

Have been perched on an outdoor chair
In front of one small house for days.
Up and down the street, windows gape.

The doors aren’t locked and half aren’t shut.
Someone’s rough sketch of a design
For a new shed lies on a porch.

Where that someone’s off to, who knows.
Huge clouds parade over maples.