Praise is a damning of sorts

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I made a spill
and it looked like Australia

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in the late shadows a damp chill rises
where puddles spot the uneven roadside

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trapped inside
                                                of me

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bright flares of fall stand
out in the early morning mist

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clear cold the gorgeous blue
swept clean by yesterday’s high winds
a dry crisp frost grips the roof tiles
heat rises as crinkled air at chimney top

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“maybe I’ll be ambitious later”
makes the needles go crazy

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light shimmering at the peripheries
takes up where the ears have failed

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roam the house
looking for my coffee cup
find it at my starting point
wonder that objects can
momentarily become invisible

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I don’t believe in ghosts
a chill breath breezed by

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leaves pirouette tentatively on the deck
an evergreen shrub responds with a shrug

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to the tendency of mist
give a subtle intelligence

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layers and filters through which I see
subtle pressure of being against being

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objects                                                    
speak with their own innocent voices

*

maybe the headaches were from anticipating bad news