october

again wash lines
emptied of the snap
of sheets drying in the breeze

replaced with
wheel and whir
of washers
and dryers
overflowing
with loads of troubles
and fluffy cycles
of renewal

chattered breath
of squirrels
barely audible
above the footfall of hunters
creeping over the crisp
vellum leaves

balding trees
turn
the forest floor
to muck
scraped heel to toe
on the welcome mat
at home

wind casts an invisible
broom across a paisley
carpet
a handle stretches to reach
the top pantry shelf
dislodges last season�s
peach preserves

the vacuum sealed recipe
passed from grandmothers
to mothers

we balk at the trees
and store our nuts
in mason jars