An old life

 Snow fell in the night.

At five-fifteen I woke to a bluish
mounded softness where 
the Honda was.
 Cat fed and coffee made,
I broomed snow off the car
and drove to the Kearsarge Mini-Mart
before Amy opened 
to yank my Globe out of the bundle.

Back, I set my cup of coffee
beside Jane, still half-asleep,
murmuring stuporous
thanks in the aquamarine morning.

Then I sat in my blue chair 
with blueberry bagels and strong
black coffee reading news, 
the obits, the comics, and the sports.

Carrying my cup twenty feet, 
I sat myself at the desk
for this day's lifelong
engagement with the one task and desire.

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