I sit at the kitchen table
and make lists—
chores, calls,
groceries, meetings. 

My mind whirrs and clicks
          like a rusty engine
given to spurts.
I will my morning coffee 
to spark sputtering connections
                     [nerves to muscle and bone], 
as I plan my attack. 

Meanwhile, nearby: 

Six white peonies 
                    in a cut-glass vase,
go about their quiet business, each
in its own unhurried time
unfolding from round buds 
extravagant ruffles of fragrance
waiting,
holding the petals aloft 
in dazzling invitation
          for a while
and finally
all at once,
letting them go.  
                        

O, friends with quirky smiles, funny quips, 
teasing tones, come leaven me.

Bring me nonsense, brainy people. Nonsense and silliness.
Bring me clever. Intoxicate my wits with madness 
in the mid-day sun and set me flying. 

Leaven me with jam-bright faces, you bouncy children.
Lift and lighten with your high-note squeals.

Bring me slapstick and bawdy, you lovely clowns.
Double take and big-shoe shuffle. Banana slip 
and daisy squirt. Leaven me with laughter!

	Inflate what’s left of my soggy soul
	and buoy this sunken center, for
	I’m flat with heavy, flat with dark, 
	down here on the bottom rack
	thick with never-can.
	
Bring me yeast and warmth, you sunshine bakers. 
Leaven me 
so I can rise.