A long Tuesday afternoon

Gray sky, damp streets, an ache
of oncoming winter. Nat King Cole
gives me his heart for sentimental
reasons. Hours muddle by.
For years I shouldered winter
on my own, a single mug of tea
and a spoon like one hand clapping.

Bright yellow ginkgo heaps itself
companionably at my feet, glittering
with chatty raindrops, promising
you’ll be back. So young, these spattered
leaves, their first fall, what do they know
of loss? I’m holding them for ransom
till I see the whites of your eyes.