A Recipe

A Recipe

A leaf rises
from the street
to slap me across the face
with its palm.

The wind is so strong
we have to lean into it.

The wind makes us
into friends when we walk past
one another. We say,
Sheesh,
and I know, right.

This is not a tornado.
All day, not one dangerous thing.

Tonight, as I prepare dinner
while the red-leaved tree thrashes
against the bricks,

I find a recipe comprised of only one word:
eat.