Bach knits a fugue around our house
on this fine autumn morning in shades
of red, rust, earthen brown, and Corelli
fills our rooms with flowers for Vivaldi
to gild, flinging his brush and spattering gold
while Mozart outside jumps up and down
on piles of fallen leaves shouting
"Look at me! Look at me!"
They'll keep this up forever, while we
at our breakfast table amid our papers
and our pens will one day be as gone
as the toast and coffee, gone as the leaves
that gather on the lawn, gone as the wind
that plays through the trees a doleful
variation in A.
Tamara Madison is the author of the chapbook "The Belly Remembers", and two full-length volumes of poetry, "Wild Domestic" and "Moraine", all published by Pearl Editions. Her work has appeared in Chiron Review, Your Daily Poem, A Year of Being Here, Nerve Cowboy, the Writer's Almanac, Sheila-Na-Gig and many other publications. She has recently retired from teaching English and French in Los Angeles and is happy to finally get some sleep. More about Tamara can be found at tamaramadisonpoetry.com.