Once upon a Kitchen

Sick in bed, nose full and sore,
I watch him move through
the kitchen. (Every bedroom
door should look upon a kitchen).
Meadowlarks chime through walls.
Windows take his silhouette.
His head bows to morning tasks.
A blender roars. Bottles clink.
Water pours its song over dishes.
He sits by me on the bed
to drink his banana coconut
smoothie. I sip hot tea.
Our eyes exchange soft shining.


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