Scheming and dreaming,
first thing in the morning.
I keep thinking it is
early November,
but it is October
I do that sometimes,
skip months or
weeks at a time.
Hard to say what
causes it,
what causes anything
we do.
Usually October is one
of my best months,
a golden glow
warming the sides
of buildings.
But this year
winter drear
has set in early,
not unremittingly
I’m sure,
but I’m like that –
believe today,
the moment.
I should know better
after decades in California,
where a day contains
several seasons.
It took me years to learn
to take a sweater,
even though it was warm,
to dress in layers
so I could strip down
to sleeveless at noon.
My daughter, though
born here, still hasn’t
She wears my clothes
home, a minor crisis
for a person with a
small wardrobe.
Returns them folded
differently than I do,
smelling of her perfume
and laundry soap.