Wednesday, November 26, 2014

Late November

65th birthday
– after too much cake
I throw away letters
meant to be read
when I got old

Snowflakes spangle
the greenhouse windows –
I pinch
a fragrance of summer
from the rosemary leaf

With one finger
I rub scum from the neck
of a black vase –
it doesn't match my wardrobe,
the scarf he brought from Paris