she casts weed killer
on the lawn
Pale-green grass–cut by the silhouettes of naked maples–bathes in early afternoon sunlight. A few still-winter-clad walkers stride beside the front yard. I witness it through our home office window, my pale face reflecting LED light from an Acer laptop screen.
Are you proud of me, Billy Collins? I’m poet-ing as you said poets do, after all.
A week of intense remote-learning preparation and instrution–ending with two Parent-Teacher Conferences–left me fatigued. I ignore the longing muscle-memory of the tai chi I once practiced daily. I sigh away the nudge to step outside and breath this Spring air.
Then Mira calls me upstairs for a late lunch.
Enticed by the beauty of the day, she invites me outside with her. And so we have our first meal of the warm season on our deck.
while shadows gather
the ways we celebrate