This is what you have on your table:
a board with three slices of green apple,
a small piece of brie that has melted,
perhaps a damp ring where you continue
to place your glass down.
You have been walking all day with the dog —
his two steps to your one break of the leaf,
had wanted to come upon a gated stable of mares
shaking their manes and
clomping their beautiful nailed shoes.
Was that a circle of ferns you passed
while you looked up for the nesting owls?
It becomes difficult to notice everything;
but now, don’t you find, it’s all you can do while
having your dinner alone?
You must have understood
that you’d be asked to complete the living
on your own someday.