A Table for Two

A light linger over a table for two and my are the ghosts of our past selves having a ball. It’s the kind of light the oven pumps out when your just a kid knees pressed into the hardwood floor. Far too eager to eat the half baked cookies. A feeling of anticipation overwhelms me. A raven flew about me this morning. Its body so dark it could have been a shadow amongst the muted grey sky. When it falls will it’s body crunch like the leaves beneath my boots? I hope not, but what happens when the lil fella gets tired of flying alone. He’ll make friends, or she. Right?

I meandered my way to Beacon this morning. On the porch with a cliche lip stick stained coffee mug holding pumpkin spice chai. It’s getting cold this week. Fall is spreading through town. Yellows, browns, fading greens. I’m proud of the trees for letting go. I’m proud of me.