The windows on Walnut
change much faster than
the leaves
Layering garments in
such familiar designs
and long sleeves
In the city a single tree
is my weathervane
A concrete gutter
collects memories
Meanwhile, in the sticks
great green walls
of corn
Grow too tall to see
the next field where cats
are keeping warm
fog up the windows 
To me this poem feels like a contrast between the city and country.