The Sight Through My Window

I see a driveway wind down a path of yellow grass

To my left I watch my dog chasing the butterflies that come yearly

A man in a suit walks down the road intersecting with my driveway, a briefcase supported by a long leather strap slung over his shoulder

The bright sun apparently blinding the man as he walks down the dust paved road

I sometimes watch people pass my lonely little house with curiosity covering their face

The only thing I see for miles is that same structure that symbolizes the gateway to the west.