Leaning from a window ledge I tried to find the patterns in passing traffic. People massed at crossings, waited on the changing of the signals. I only saw the distant tops of heads until I tipped too far and fell and rolled past stacks of empty windows. I waited for the flattened smack of paving stones. Instead, I found perspective, understood why humans grasp at straws. I let go and lived.

Dress shirts hanging in the dark slowly switch positions. They fade from blue to white and shuffle to the right in single file. A few enshrined in plastic seem to hold their places longer than the rest. Some social stature lets them stay while others disappear, returning in random order on the weekends. We look for patterns in life and fail to note simple circles of truth that show us where we've been and where we're going. We overlook the daily details of keys and coats and paperclips of cereal and stair steps and dress shirts. We're on our way to something bigger, but it's always out of reach. We want so much more and settle for less than satisfaction.

Small suburban home with spot of grass and pinch of flowers just beneath the window. Two cars crowd the drive. We think we seek simplicity with this in mind; happiness, contentment and a future filled with laughing family gatherings on the lawn and slow Sunday walks. But we've been there, and it was a long time ago. Now the house is bigger, kids are older, three cars replaced two. And we're still searching. For simplicity.