To Live at a Different Time in History for Sunday Scribblings

Today

I found a stray
hair on my chin,

noticed that I need
a color soon,

had to suck my tummy
in to fasten my jeans,

dreamed about being
young again

then looked out the window.
Pine needles had made

a brown shag carpet
all around our camp site,

the sun was sifting
through leaves

all mango and cantaloupe.
I heard the siren lure

of a train whistle
and realized

I’d rather stay
right here

in my October
writing this poem.