The year is old.
My fog-filled eyes are cracked and bleary
of uncertain dreamlands. Auburn
squares project on old shiplap walls.
The trees toss walnuts on the roof,
knocking away the indeterminate
I lightfoot down my squeaky stairs as
a biplane hums upward into a cloudy sea.
The dogs paw eagerly at the back door.
I’m pleasantly surprised
when an old friend greets me
in the backyard. Upon the red
and brown and yellow ground she
wraps herself around me. With a whisper
she creeps under my skin. I mask my face
but she comes right through
to bite at my nose. Our meeting is brief.
My face flushed, I escape inside.
The cat meows mutely from outside the door.