a poem by Dr. Debora B. WisneskiSitting by an open window on alate spring evening,cool damp air hovers just insidethe screen as it touches my skin. At a distance, the hum of the city isconstant.The neighborhood is still.Then a dog barks.A car passes on the street-rubber hits the grooves of the roadand a steady bump-bumpbump-bump of the tires goes by.I know I will be movingsoon-where I will sit by a windowand listen to the humof a new city, the barks of otherdogs, and the bump-bump ofother car tires.Hoping I’ll be home.