Cup and a mug

What I need is, what I need
is a bird at my window
or a squirrel in my yard.
I think they will sing and scratch
and keep me company when the sky is white,
the water at some height

Me with my mug and malaise
Me with my cup and a vase
on hushed tables where my fables sit;
The fables I sent door to door
door to rusty door to door

an apple core being beside apple cores, 
are eaten round and year round
found and lost, though abundant