ode to things i love

autumn, the smell of leaves, the slouch of sweatshirts, the taut skin of evening chill
curling up with a book
becoming familiar strangers
stringed instruments
shared laughter
the way grapes break open between teeth
sensing the vastness of knowledge, unhaveable, and thirsting for it anyway
waking up with poetry inside
wrinkles in time
getting organized
sitting alone in trees, waiting for something to show itself
new music