In July, the days began to stretch into something I wanted to inhabit. Sunrise to sunset, one choice at a time. I could drink coffee slowly, hot to cold. Observe what has been observed many times before, sometimes finding something new. The old horse trailer across the road, grey and rust, parked neatly a year or more ago is aligned with the hedge as if there were painted lines. The neighbor talks of horses, but this is the only evidence. What does he see when he looks my way from his tiny camper window? Someone sitting on the porch doing nothing? I wonder how much we have in common. Silently living next door to each other. Last time we spoke I had to refuse his horses access to my tiny overgrown patch of grass. He valuing food for horses, I valuing the view. A small schism.