Old Umbrella

You survived two seasons

maybe three

The red umbrella I bought for this summer

box unopened

still cocoons in the garage

When poets arrived to write

beneath your shade

two ribs poked through

required this non-seamstress

to tuck with thick thread

uneven stitches, soon torn

unable to stop the inevitable

sag and flop

Yesterday, a tiny promise of rain

dampened my face as I sipped coffee

and wished for a deluge

today, autumn sun, feeble, but comforting

suppressed any desire for your services

Still you stand

no more a shield from earth’s elements

your familiar presence

completes my morning comrades

serene Buddha

steaming cup

flutter of pray flags

loving pup