​They’re in the Porch

Soft circles drawn in the midst
Of a hot chocolate cup.
Sweet fingertips.
 
The feet of a child sunder
The dying coat of the summer goddess.
 
The Wind knows every song-
Be it animal, human, or thunder.
 
He comes in. shaking his crispy coat.
And the smell of rain rushes through the door.
 
“Hey, honey. Close that umbrella.
Brings bad luck.”
“Right.”
 
The red sun
Is coming out in Japan.
But here, ours is turpentine, amber, gold.
Husband comes just in time for the pecan
Pie.
 
Sitting by the fireplace, hand in hand,
Breathing in the watery dusk,
I don’t regret growing old.
 
If only I had a child’s feet to warm…
Some blanket to pull up to his little chin,
Some brownish hair to groom,
Some pumpkin-sleep perfume.
 
The night is now in the porch.
Time to board a ship
And sail the velvet bronze leaf sea.
 
Chandelier candlelight.
Hush, husband-
Night and autumn are here.