From one place to another

I start the day at home, more precisely at the
pink and aqua dinette in the kitchen,
we read the New York Times on line except
for Friday, Saturday and Sunday.
Sunday is the best ever.
I read Week in Review first,
he reads the Business Section, and then
I try to stash all the sections I like upstairs.

He never reads Modern Love anyway.

Weekdays I ride my bike to work,
the bike path is mostly open now after the flood.
I love the crunch of the fallen leaves under my tires
and I hum the annoying alarm that I hear every
morning at 6:30 am from Stephen's phone.
The office, conference room, copy room,
coffee shop, Ian's office, where we talk
about micrometeroids and other fun stuff.
I deliberately ride my bike over the highest
mounds of fallen leaves on the way home,
savoring each crackle as they will soon
blow away in the wind, or become soggy
under snow and rain. 
The pink and aqua dinette waits for me,
I drop my bag, open my laptop and finish
reading the article I left half done this
morning.