Poem to Raymond Carver
comforter thrown
over my legs
late morning
cats asleep at my feet
I am reading a tattered copy
of A NEW PATH TO THE WATERFALL
you said you wanted this
all of your life
waking each day to
everything new
choosing whether to
fish or write or play
with your cat Morris.
I look outside at the new snow —
the same Syracuse snow
that you must have watched
and I too feel like
lobotomizing the morning
rising only to cook brook trout
for breakfast.
~ joan cofrancesco