simmering summer,
that's my magic right now
today is all October
drifting down to pile up
stocking down for winter
drawing the fire inside
to ember until the wheel spins
i close a door or two
and brew a single tea
not where I was
or where I will
i'm here with apples
bubbling in an
electric cauldron
an old quilt we found in an attic
belonged once to a woman
who believed her work would save her from the cold
among her pictures and mementos
she left to no one
were letters from an old beau
she ignored
hidden in cards sent to the family
now her quilt warms our bed
my pie bakes in her fire king pan
i don't wonder
her politics were known
work hard and keep it all
and turn aside the bums
they had their chance
i'm not saying anything,
just baking pies for October,
spinning thread
and making simple spells
to last a day
what was, what is, and what may come
invites us in
to warm fires and simmering
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