Beneath grapefruit light and

silk and tulle clouds,

I glide home eager for dinner.


A welcome from my dog

—as if he hasn’t seen me in years—

whets my appetite, settling me in after a day’s travails.


But the meal is a hurried affair

this Tuesday night.

Low on adventure,

high on ease.


My only dessert is a hot shower,

washing away lingering 9-to-5 energies before bed.


I long for fall,

when I can share my weekends with my cookbooks

and watch




seduce the oven into an aromatic dance,

its crescendo a warm puff of pastry.


With each summer I cling to these Sunday memories,

until finally the calendar signals my return to page and pantry.



  1. There’s something about this piece…love it.

  2. Thanks! Glad you liked it!

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