provincial
sweep the dust from the tabletop the footprints from the tiles
shake the covers pull them taut against the frame
turn on lights at that hour before dawn
turn them off as then, the sun does its work
pause before the potted plants determine them
sated
enough for a few more days
pull the bins from the curb the weeds from the gardens the loose leaves and limbs from the trees the wisps of hair from my eyes
ritual