unwalking the weave

flash of warmth on my face
on this cooler day as i walk down the karma path
and the sun hits what was stan’s window just right
so that the glass throws the heat of it
onto my cheekbone/forehead/chin

all the zinnias
that were still bursting with color two days agon
now brown and the tomato leaves across the path
finally wilting

the unweaving of tomato trellises
rhythmic and only as fast as the twine will let me move
allowing moments for giving gratitude
to the plants that tried hard this season
this movement of undoing a sort of dance,
and if it had a name perhaps it would be:
unwalking the weave

the green of crackers with pesto in the batter
as i roll them flat as i can
on butcher block


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