changing costumes

from where we stand i see the woods is washed with the muted yellow color of goodbye
i trace the outlines of tree friends changing costumes
letting go of leaves
and scan the periphery for witch hazel flowers my favorite all of them are your favorite, but what’s especially special about witch hazel is that they bloom thin tendrils of yellow just as everything else is falling apart

visions of bright

renewing
the pledge to notice, and to pin down the noticings like dried flowers
on the notecards on my table, again

learning gomphrena, the flower that comes in hues of purple and red and the kind with yellow dashes on the tips, fireworks, feeling thankful for the papery bracts that lend themselves easily to visions of bright winter window decorations

soak up the sun’ I say to the first graders walking on the farm who are complaining that they are hot and they are thirsty, and when can they sit down, ‘ because it will be winter sooner than we think!’ I say even though that is hard to imagine in the 80 degrees and not even 11am on this mid-October morning

ordering hot and sour soup for the third time in two weeks from the same restaurant under the bridge, this time its dark outside and raining. inside its all smiles we’re laughing and shouting and reaching out with our arms to underscore injustices and gesticulate our fantasies of growing 15 foot perennial grasses in 10 foot long garden beds so sometimes I become conscious of how much louder we are than the older couple sitting at the table next to us, but they don’t seem bothered and the red hue of the wallpaper and the soft maroon of the napkins and the spicy warming liquid is warming more than just the inside of my stomach.