The purple skein of yarn is no more.

It has run away–

Hi ho, away I say! Away.

Sweater half begun. No one

left to don it.  No one, I say!

The sink is empty, the tree

uprooted.  My life? It’s

been one long improv. An

improv, I say!  One two three

five–no, four, dammit!  I

never did get it right, a life

of improvisation….