Kitchen mornings lulled into overcast.
Gaping windows welcome Autumn—come.
Sit stoolside, crisping leaves. Wet your lips
and sip the silence of a sleeping home.
Find solace beside last night’s dishes, still
caked with lemon crumble, crusting. Rest for work.
Motion will come. Rest now.
Crisp in our quiet—
A young boy rustles sheets upstairs, dreaming
pancake batter, firewood, crunching leaves.