I woke up this morning
to Spanish moss hanging from the chandelier.
While I’d been asleep
pepper vines had snuck in the back window
headed for the library,
and scarlet larkspur gathered around
to mourn your old shoes
in the closet.
The outside became curious of the inside.
What do humans do in these houses?
Downstairs, bushes of coyote mint
found the light switch,
and terrorized circuitry
like a club in Dublin.
Hummingbird sage guarded the fire place
while a cluster of trembling poppies
tried to strike a match
like a skinny lot of librarians
having a go at a criminal record.
And there I was scolding plants
in my pajamas before 8 a.m.
or a proper cup of coffee.
Is this what happens to me without a dog
The wilderness invites itself in
to play with matches,
while I frantically decide which
item of furniture I don’t mind
having covered in foliage, flowers,
roots, shoots, and dirt
and renamed as the Time Out Chair.