Chocolate on my Fingers

The sun is six fingers above the horizon on
a sky blue sky. My crisp fingers feel the
crisp breeze that’s contemplating Spring
but steadily step-stepping toward Winter
and my hands are not yet in my pockets.

Leaf-devils swirl on the sidewalk seeking
a crossroads and place to discuss the well-
being of my soul (in exchange for a bit of
Johnson-like harping but I’m not yet sold).
And now

I stand in the entry of my shop out
of the breeze with devil-leaves on
my heels and enter where it’s warm (at
least I hope it is or I’ll have to call
the HVAC guy again). Time to get
chocolate on my fingers and wait for snow.