all the fallen persimmons

words for the way the fall sun
at its low angle
not just up but still early in the sky
backlights the broad still-green leaves
i stand under
on the gravel road
at the end of my run
glancing up
at magnificence


the goodmorning message that 
reads: welcome to another day
with us in it


a chain:
me (as i write) watching mama cat
(and her intent and inqusitive face) as she watches
a squirrel swinging fantastically
as any acrobat
(and maybe even more fantastic than some)
through the persimon trees

is it raining near you she asks
i think we’re in each other’s storm system
the box that arrives packed
with spices for making hari mirch ka achaar
repacked by jnfr
along with a note 
keeping ourselves espicy!

there is no word
for the kind of happiness
the dahlias
and gumphrena
and snapdragons
and asters
and strawflowers
and bachelor’s buttons
and zinnias
and celosia
and cosmos bring me
while i walk among them
and clip the right and ready ones
and then arrange them
in a clear clean jar
of water

the rustling around
just outside my room
of a possum (white and gray/black)
whose lips/mouth i can actually hear smack
as they feast
on all the fallen persimmons
from the water world: 

This photo shows a man performing on a water-propelled flyboard at Shenyang Olympic Park in Shenyang in China’s northeastern Liaoning province. – voice of america , day in photos