(ten of pentacles, reversed, Rider-Waite)

We face each other. You look

into the house, I to the outside.

Beneath an unrelenting sun,

the streets are hot and bright.

Inside, the house is cool and dark;

the dogs spread across the tiles.

Local lords flash knives like smiles,

while risking other people’s lives.

We stand here at the threshold;

the door is open. With one step,

we enter the square, or the warmth

and comfort of the house.

In the air between us, a coin spins,

and we wait, without moving.

(September 26, 2023)