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Making Other Arrangements

With my long-range plans sputtering,
I retire to the sun porch
where a made-for-cable miniseries
is being shot on a shoestring.
Inside, the room continues its cornucopian spin.
The light fixtures complain of burnout
and threaten to move to Duluth.
Sensing a quandary, the leaves
take up a collection on my behalf.
Nonetheless, I proceed, realizing
too late perhaps that there is little sense
in assuming an arresting vision
if you lack the wherewithal to get to first base.
Midway through the second reel
a curlew advances. This is too much!
The last time this happened buttresses
with the determination of Kamikazes
flew around my grandparents' doilied parlor
as a red tuxedoed ringmaster
announced their entrance into the center ring.
Even the dog came out of retirement.
Plums and avocados strolled hand-in-hand
through the labyrinthine garden.
The sun primped. There was nary a stump in sight.