Pick up a green and yellow orange.
Its curve, your curled fingers.
The table of envelopes recedes.
Where a stone trestle crosses
the creek: someone dropped
a mirror to contain
fragments of sky and branches.
Yesterday you jumped, umbrella broken,
across two lanes of leaves, hailed
a squirrel skidding the wires above.
Today you build a shrine,
twist-ties and bendy straws.