All morning and all afternoon, the light jumps around on my sewing machine
it blinks off the leaves still on the lilac bush
it throws hard-edged shadows of the mullions
then whispers ghost-like across my working hands
for an instant, it turns the khaki fabric yellow.
The light is demanding
distracting me from my work
then lulling me into a daze
It’s November 4th
It should not be warm enough for me to leave my studio door open to let the warm air in.
the sky should be the most dreary gray,
The light seduces me
I drift in a dream toward it
and its warmth
and worry that winter may not come.