the crispness of fall is proving elusive;
like walking through a beaded doorway of sticky heat
as we make our way to the kindergarten.

but still,
things are shifting, i notice.

even the girls will wear sleeves and socks in the mornings.

and where in summer the end of the first pot of tea
ends up in a pitcher in the fridge,
now there is a second pot,
waiting on the counter until a late late morning break.

last night tim and i heard noises in the house.
a teaspoon clinking. the light switch flicking on with a snap.
small quick noises, but enough to wake us out of good sleep
and send tim downstairs.

in the morning, i find a teacup on its side by the girls' bed,
a book on the floor.

things are always so deeply mysterious in the night
when you don't know for sure.

the wind is up now and a wet breeze is coming in.
time for another cup.

xo,
tt

::

anna.
sunday.
washington square park.
no (!), she didn't jump in,
just down to the next step.