Sweater Weather
Shoved in a crinkled blue bag in back of the
Closet. I had to dig them out and pants too.
Not everything fits—a lot can happen
In six months—and my boots don’t have the
Support my doctor now says I need. I wonder
If every change of season will be like
This as I age. Clothes I bought last winter
Look lousy on me now as if I inhabit
A new body: Strange hips extra belly
Flab in fresh places. I’m more of myself and
Also less. I found my favorite zip-up
Gray with green cuffs. It doesn’t flatter
Never has but hugs like warmth and tricks
Me into comfort. I put it on to walk the
Dog wrap a scarf around my neck and
Chance it with the archless rain boots. I miss
The sun like a friend who made a sudden
Departure and I remember S.
Being mad I didn’t visit before
Moving last year and how I wanted
Her to come to me—after all I
Was packing a house I didn’t want
To leave, in disarray and shambles,
But in her eyes I was like the Oregon
Sun that disappears in September
Without warning just when you are used
To it and taking it for granted.
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