I notice a ceiling spider watching me.
I make tea in the cherry-blossom pot.
I nap lightly in the sun-heated chair.
I dream clouds or wake to them.
Tea now as warm as this day.
Worked hard outside all day, then sat
with a cup of tea that she
brought with a madeleine cookie to remember
things past and talk of this present
and watch the sunset on her hair.
The sunset color of this morning’s tea
in its clear glass is a filter
where I can view this day’s end.
In oak, cedar and maple liquid hues,
I see early winter as autumn again.