I edited a manuscript, I worked on a poem, I picked peas, I went to the grocery store, I read a book, I cooked dinner, I listened to a baseball game, I fell asleep, I dreamed I was in a small room trying to put on on a dark-blue dress that was shredding under my hands.

The kitchen table is spread with fading rose petals, an open magazine, a white cup of black coffee. The dog rattles her breakfast dish against the tile. The cat stealthily licks gravy. Three peaches rest in a bowl.

No wind. The trees are sentinels under the bright sky. A car slides past. A bluejay screams.

The stars are invisible.