we are ripe to fall

i arranged flowers in a vase and stood in the doorway, watching the dog sleep.
at yoga, there are two of us and the vines have leafed out, grown over the building. i drive well, but without thinking, like a robot. home.
arrange the grapefruit, yogurt, two boxes of pasta for later, sit in the font window and ignore the bright white clouds up high because in the lower atmosphere, they are dark and faster moving. they take on the shapes of your drawings, my face

two bottles of wine on the countertop,
pink fish on the plate.
the arms of trees and shrubs beat against the house
the wind beats against the house
i beat against the house
four letters to which to reply
little sun, and rarely