A day like a life, begun in the dark and ended
In the dark, with in between a number of joys
And minor frights, so much for today. I wasted,
Savored, and recycled. Mid-day, my daughter
And I loaded up the back of the car with every empty
Glass item the house and garage had accumulated
Since our last trip to the community bins. Clear,
Green, brown, well-rinsed or slightly funky,
We tossed them through the hatch and winced
As they crashed and shattered out of sight. The sun
Shone brightly on the muddy, littered ground. The snow
On the dun cliffs and peaks surrounding our homeliness
Had thinned to an exquisite lace hand-tatted
By thermodynamic gods. Daughter ran into a copse
Of nearby pines in search of a missing fairy book, narrating
Madly as she went, reemerging with a holy grail
Of scuffed scarlet shotgun shell casing that she said held
The lost potion that could make magic reappear.
What else? Later we invented a game with wood chips
And a chain-link fence, another game with ropes
And a wooden swing. Recycled, savored, and wasted.
No good news came. Bad news whispered a refrain,
But kept to the periphery of the cliffs hissing with melted ice.
The benefits of ignoring the inevitable ignored the cost.
We played a board game with clues when it got to be night.
In bed at the end, body thought of the scarlet potion lost.
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