Three Variations

1

Since I bought the winter greens my sleep has been better.
But upon waking, the seventh-story window,
uncurtained, disoriented me with concrete
and open air–and the greens had frosted in the fridge.

2

On weekday mornings I avoid others,
face work with fresh spite;
lend my richest mind to receipts,
the shopping list, and small change.

3

When my father went out in the waning hours
of bitter winters to bring us to our mother
and then return alone to his house, he always
left a light on to welcome himself home.

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