Matters of Little Consequence

Today I am mostly
in the business of tending
matters of little consequence.

If I don’t eat lunch,
I’ll be empty hungry
by supper.

If I don’t write, I’ll pad
through the cool blind house,
or the red stone garden, studying
cracks and pink and green light.

If I don’t play with my boys,
they’ll find their friends and scheme
inside the giant alley lilac carved out
yesterday with dull garden shears
they lost and found at dusk. Their fort.

If I don’t help my daughter,
she will whine until sidewalk weeds
are all whacked, missing her thick book.

If we don’t talk, there will be silence.

If I don’t look at the clock,
the noon horn will still blow
a siren to the town: the day is bright!

But I will. I will eat honey toast and write,
I’ll sit near yarrow and wonder about dry roots.
I’ll laugh with my browned boys unless they cry,
and they often do. I will answer my daughter
when she calls, “Mom?” and hug her for
widening our walk just because it needed done,
even though I didn’t ask. Just once, I’ll look
at the kitchen clock. Alone, we will be
quiet, let summer work its sun
and shade across the unimportant
moonless day.


One Response to “Matters of Little Consequence”

  1. Laa says:

    Raa … me likes.

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