Being Wise Forty-Two November 20, 2021
Leaves. The little orchid plant in
the window still thrives, despite
my neglect. Outside a few sweetgum
leaves frame the window. Farther
away sun hits the tall tulip tree at
the edge of the woods. Our frost
came late, but finally arrived.
The woodstove took the chill off
the house in my writing corner.
It’s quiet except for one mouse
scurrying around near the bookcase.
We always seem to have one more.
I’m grateful for all my helpers
and for leaves, inside and out.
The sun’s light drops lower.
Daylight dominates, insistent.
Another day, leaves turning
yellow, a blush of red. They’re
never boring. I’m content.
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