It was a day like a silent film star bouncing
Off an awning, momentarily upward bound.
My daughter and I stole cherry tomatoes
From the community garden, pretending to be
Good witch and wizard making potions out of pollen
At the picnic table. That kind of a day.
The warmth was warm, the breezes gentle,
The piles of dishes that needed washing got washed,
The camping trip that needed packing got packed.
The paycheck checked; the haircut cut.
Even the late afternoon playdate played out
Into evening, next town over. When it ended,
We came home and watered the lawn until the moon
Appeared to clear the cliffs again, as if it were rising
Not spinning around and around, slowly slowing down.
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