The wind was hard yesterday
and small bunches of leaves fell,
the same ones which had burned with early scarlet
and stood out amid the stubborn green
of their fellows.

I awaken late
having expected early construction racket,
but nothing is going on.

Last night I promised myself
a good day of work
with some time to myself
beforehand, and it was not to be.

I apologize to the silent dawn
that failed to wake me; I was not
open to your efforts.

Ashes to mud:
gray bottom sheen
inside the neglected firepit.

Dust to demand:
the words “WASH ME”
on the car stand out
more insistently today.

Ignoring for a moment
how much I have yet to accomplish,
I watch the asphalt trucks
and yellow vested men
at last moving into place,
hurrying to complete the street
before the snows arrive.