ten-thirty at nightand still so much left undone.my cat licks herself.
late night dishwashing.kitchen window over sinkreflects a stranger.
pelicanperched on polk street roof,wings spread out to dry.
hyde street cala foodsclosing, shelves almost bare likethe end of the world.
friday morning mist.my dog and I share a freshblueberry muffin.
thanksgiving night.a lone cable car ascendscalifornia street.
back for thanksgiving:my son and the mists clingingto the shaggy hills.
leaving the warm houseto move the car and maybeenjoy the stars some.
green hills right in sight.still the hawk perches abovethe crowded freeway.
at the next table,young couple on their first date.let the games begin.
beyond the bare trees:manor ridgevisible again.
bento box salad.how come the tomato wedgegets all the dressing?
trash night.wheeling out the bins undercold november stars.
america waitedtwo weeks after halloweento take off its mask.
this ache and longingto lie in your fleshy warmthand forget my name.
the twilight citysparkles in the blue shadowswhile I wait for the bus.
bright as any flame — the autumn leaves on the treeoutside my window.
the moon rises late,indifferentto my longing.
sky bruisedwith rain clouds. back home,a fire waiting.
cat on ottoman,eyes reflecting the fire,as they slowly shut.
november morning.white mists rise from the trees, brightwith fragmented sun.
daylight savings time.leaving work in early dark,downtown all lit up.
cold november night:jupiter chases the moon.my dog doesn’t care.
now the cops think twice.turns out that ‘little brother’has cameras too.
autumn saturday.light a fire and listento the rain applaud.
rainy afternoon.a chance to pick through old books,boil water for tea.
before the writing,a libation of red wine,each sip a prayer.
shooting star?no, just a white mothcrossing the street light.