November Morning Prayer

---

The red maple leaf

through the barred window

blazes my eye

open, a bright thank you

on its dying lips.

So much goodness awaits;

icy skies cut-glass clear

above our heads, the meal

that will surprise our tongues

as we begin to know each other

over brunch in Brooklyn.

May whatever we discover

drip french-toast-doused-

in-maple-butter-syrup sweet.

May the short burst

of afternoon light

flood us with wonder

long past twilight's

periwinkle dream,

day and night slow-dragging

as old lovers remembering

the first time, the sun burning

opposite the complacent moon

until she ignites.