window poem

Straight ahead i see one lonely tree with many branches that appear to be neglected by the winter cold standing in front of a June yard.
To the left of me there are kids outside playing ball in the street but the goal has back board.
But today is different, today nobody is outside.
On this block, there are always people outside doing something.
I see the shadow of every branch on the walls in my in my room and the light from car headlights running
on my ceiling.