Dazzling

Smelling the Roses

I'm nursing blisters in my ballet flats
and a pocket full of tickets
with all the wrong numbers.
Practice makes a good loser.

I will focus on the glitter in the granite;
I will fabricate good fortune
in my half-full rosy glasses.
Happy face determinedly in place.

I see my bus sail gaily up the avenue
with me not on it. My smile
is a sooty cat, slinking out
from under my stroking hand.

There is such gorgeousness
in this autumn dusk. I know I am lucky
to be walking in this vast gold sky.
It's a blessing. I will count it.

I stop for the pinkness of Claudia roses
crowding the lace of a wrought-iron fence.
I take the small time to breathe in their glory
and some kind of bug is sucked hard up my nose.