> jumping into life.

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Pressed black coffee tastes
like camping. Especially today,
in my quiet house
with the wind turning Autumn outside.

Soon there will be woodsmoke in the air.

While you are gone
I will drink from your mug,
leaving mine on the shelf.
I wear your slippers,
sleep on your pillow,
and take up the full bed.

I sleep diagonally, even,
eagle-armed and bowlegged:
there would not be room for so much
as a cat. While you are gone
I am eating mushrooms and
yogurt with no apologies.
I am leaving all
the dishes in the sink,
but one.

Today the morning glories stayed open
past noon. Today I put on socks:
the wind is blowing Autumn in,

soon there will be wooodsmoke
and the apples are gaining their blush.

Soon you will be home
to cup my hands in yours.

I love the story of lonely and anticipation. Autumn is good too.

Thanks. Autumn is good.

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