Rustlings

The trees have dusted
all the leaves
from their branches.
The thermostat twitches.

I danced
with a quick-footed plastic bag
until it fainted beside shrubs.

Wrappers and styrofoam lounged
like partiers at the punch bowl.
A good hostess, I gathered them.

Straws rubbed shoulders
with a vodka bottle &
the shyest scraps mingled
with the rustling crowd.