Sunday, April 9, 2017

Sage: a poem


Just for the day,
Wear mis-matched socks and faded jeans,
pull a hat over your messy hair
and chose
not to talk about anyone who is not present,
laugh with the grocery cashier,
push the stray carts into their parking-lot folds.
Later,
listen to your teenager dream of computer game fame
smiling and nodding,
then show him how to cook stuffed pasta shells
and to watch for
the fox steal across the foggy meadow.
Pull up the covers at night,
tucked up with your lover,
feeling the embrace of the bedroom walls
and the breeze that flutters moth-like

over your cheek.

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