Lists scatter.
Notes disappear.
Cartoons and postcards lost
Beneath the ice box.  Fat stained
Recipes retire inside books.

Magnets cling to the door now opening
Onto a watered green valley.
A kestrel wings the blue sky;
A vole flees atop a weathered stone wall.

Autumn’s buttered evening sun
Low behind the hills;
Trees take up night’s ink
Drawing the land’s immensity:
A red maple leaf rendered black.
Lines sketched reveal a river turning
Toward an ocean

Reaching for a pitcher of tea.