ice tumbles

into husband’s Yeti

he has a busy day ahead of him

and it looks to be

a warm one

a scattering of leaves,

autumn confetti

*

left in their wake

a gymnasium of branches

the zoo closes in half an hour

and I’ve yet to see the new baby giraffe —

I’ve become a captive of the river otters

*

they remind me of a cabin in Duluth

where not far from shore

I bore witness to their energy & joy

*

I’d let husband sleep; he was just so tired

*

that mystical dawn watery indulgence

felt then like pure magic,

one I chose to keep all to myself

tea leaf residue

spent, sodden sachet

the cozy warmth

that emanates still

from my favorite

autumnal mug

harvested seeds

gathered blooms

garden dreams

microwave door stands open

shadow-lines angle

the upper left corner

of its back wall

striking striations seldom seen

or appreciated, if ever

for nearly most of the day

rain, rain, blasted rain

how I mourn the loss

of September’s charm

whose appendages are these

atop the keys of my laptop —

gnarled, veiny knuckles

fingers, each back-of-hand dorsum?

sitting poised to transfer brain’s activity

to an illuminated sheet of paper,

I can’t help but question how decrepit and old

this body of mine has somehow become.