Last Considerations

turning
like inner wrists
bearing the entry points
of deeper

Daybreak sends silent rays through untroubled pines. Peace spreads in all directions like warm honey. Our catechism of foliage gives way to a tempest of falling color. One pays homage to rivers and last blooms while still able. Last considerations of gardens and other growing things are set upon the cold and growing colder altar of November. Blankets, jackets and the waistline of my jeans pull closer.

Less words arrive yet the desire to communicate remains. Loose leaves momentarily cling to the teacup's slickness, but mostly they drift like tiny motes in sunlight. Eons built on moments. Moments built on warm tea passing over expectant lips.

Flooding now flows outward instead of its usual inward reeling.

Gratitude.
Love.
Softness extended.

I wait until Kyle wakes to wash the clothes or grind the coffee. Semi trucks scrape through gears westbound on Chicago Drive, hauling themselves into 5 a.m. A few stars peek and play through a wooded skyline. Grateful indeed!

The poetic version of me doesn't want to say how this all gets translated. The tired version just looks downstream at our salvation and knows.