burnt toast, charred bits of breakfast

sunrise reveals dusty, streaky windows

aging bodies moving morning-slow

husband snaps a few photos

while I help thread her sewing machine —

I’m grateful for his thoughtfulness

Mom’s exhausted when we leave,

worn out from our visit —

she tires so easily these days

the cancer, having its way

with her nearly 90-year-old body,

depletes what little remains of her energy

but not quite yet her resolve

at least, not for now

but we’re well aware, that too,

is also coming

two deer silhouetted

against the still waters of the lake,

quietly lapping a pebbled beach,

not yet disturbed by the human intrusion

that will surely come later in the day

as the rising sun peers down

at the thrum of the world

dew points in the miserable zone

windows plastered with condensation

another stay-indoors kind of day

husband cooks up scrambled eggs

with gentle nudging, just the way I like them

I am one very kept woman

on arthritic knees,

grateful for cooling breezes,

she pulls the weedy grasses, easily—

leaves stubborn thistles

and oak tree nymphs

for spray nozzle’s lethal poisons

spiky loosestrife

gentle coneflower

peppery chive

sun-hungry clematis—

each one,

my purple garden mistress

seven inches of murk

flooded street & backyard

a deluge of rainwater

w/absolutely nowhere to go