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.