Finally paid off the logger I buy wood from
The last $50 on four cords for this winter.
The greenbacks, two $20s and a $10, I carried

a week in my wallet, hoping they didn’t turn
into milk or bread, coffee or cheese.
If I need another cord or two

I don’t want to be beholden.
I want to pick up the phone,
Dial and order the loads come December.

After I paid the dough
I felt enough at ease to take the dog
down the sewage treatment plant road

where milkweed pods just opened. Down
stuck out of scallop-shaped shells
like ideas for cumulous clouds.

The sky held a few of those
high, small smoke signals
I think of as flak-for-peace

at six o’clock. They were
also reflected in the cattail swamp
at the side of the road where run-off lingers.

Milkweed, clouds, reflections,
all in such succession
I can still see them

while sitting in front of a fire
letting them go like smoke
up the chimney toward tomorrow.