Things to do on a perfect morning in mid-September: start bread; put on boots; walk to water; sit by water and watch leaves fall; try to catch a leaf on your tongue; spit out leaf ; guffaw; (the leaf’s lines are rivers, the lines of your hands are rivers, too); stare into the eyes of your child; hey! there’s a leaf in there! with rivers!; coo incessantly; look at that still water; feel that still water inside your soul; miss, for a minute, being nineteen, footloose with a pack of cigarettes; lift yourself up and walk more; stand under a maple and watch a downy woodpecker do his thing; think, downy? or hairy? how the hell will I ever know?; close your eyes and feel that sun; close your eyes and put your nose deep into the folds of your sleeping child; think, mmm, apples, think, mmm, cheese, think do others find this rank?; get back home; punch bread down for a second rise; look at clock; fall onto couch; close eyes; count the times you were awoken last night; think about all those road trips; think about the multitudinous lives; wonder how you landed on this one; think lucky; think grateful; think thank you and alive.