Familiarity

I walked for a while on the other side of the road The whiteness of the late morning clouds The moving rounded shapes of familiarity Walking in the same uphill direction With eyes in the sky I do not remember the gutter on that side of the road The pavement was narrower Allowing front gardens for two storied duplexes It was somehow more rustic and countrified Looking over the hedged in tram tracks The storefronts separated by flat doors were smaller Blended together as one building Which they actually were I had not noticed this Though I'd spent most of my life in it Crossing the street had not been easy Getting back would be For soon I'd be where I'd always crossed To walk down Thomas Lane to school I stood in front of the blacksmith's Smelling the burnt hoof horse sweat Realizing the comfort of familiarity The clouds sailed by as unconcerned as ever