Weight Limit

The neighbor’s yard is an empty stage

where summer was left to rot.

The blue mesh sags with a heavy age

in a snowy, frozen knot.

The rope has bitten a hairless ring

deep in the maple’s side.

It doesn’t look like a leisure thing

where anyone could hide.

The belly of the nylon net

is touching the brittle grass.

A weight that hasn’t happened yet,

watching the winter pass.