Sun on the porch!
I never complained of rain.
Bees flyby my red chair.

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Cookbook, page 29

Breakfast was unsatisfying
The sunshine made too much of it all
The rain is coming, not nearly soon enough
The birds complained about the bread crusts
(breakfast, sun, rain, birds, bread)
Recipe for a morning.

The night was interrupted twice
The stars made 2 a.m. worth it
I found myself dozing, pen in hand
The rain (still) has not arrived, and I wait
The birds sang me awake so I could write to you
(night, stars, pen, rain, birdsong)
Recipe for joy.

A last tumble

Oh summer you are leaving us
so quickly you came and went
tugging at you
to make you stay
with our best efforts
we ask you to shine
that sun that wakes with a burst
through my window

The feeling of the dead of June
in mid-September
a gift
in the midst of endings
to be embraced by your warmth
a last gesture
from a waning season that goes
not with a whimper

but with a wham
bam
thank you, ma’am

(written circa 2000)

summer is not through with us yet
foolishly leaving the shades up
the unforgiving sun
burning our diaries through the windows
day after day
lulled into a trance
by sunrises that promise
a mid-September calling-back
of revelers with their
picnic baskets, and
coolers of inspiration
every brush of fingers
over imaginations. Saddle up
there is not a cloud
in the sky

3 a.m.

I can hear no cars. I might be the only one in this time zone awake.

The mind is errant when left on its own. With no goal in mind, it wanders through places my mother warned me about – with fancy names and neon.

Everything here is shiny and bright. My tired eyes blink, trying to make out shapes and faces. I see you, waving to me. I try to be nonchalant.

I remember it was a drag the day I realized I was the girl mothers warned their sons about. I couldn’t argue with the facts.

There is nothing left now to do but keep it as a memory, and sand down the edges for posterity. Once I am gone, I will not be able to explain.

Now that I have passed the fulcrum of this night, I will stay awake and watch the sun come up. I hate to think this stardust will be wasted.