a magical morning
the last of the year

I don't see the squirrel
but its shadow
racing up the shadow
of a tree limb
against the apartment wall

a voice says
compadre

sumlight turns
December leaves
into spring green
a waterfall of pale light

a breath of air
sifts into the open doorway

leaves of houseplants sway
in time with their familia
on the other side of the door