Monday, May 9, 2011


they smell of the out-of-door just as those their size are meant to smell as the days lengthen and warm
the nightly ritual of foot-washing begins as spring feet find their way uncovered into still cool soil
faces smudged and hair damp from big play I breathe deep wondering when I started to smell so grown-up and silently whisper for time
fingers dig into soil making room for the tiniest seeds
hlp, hlp offered from the tiniest hands
she and I practice reading on the swing in the sun
he mows
it is time for meatloaf to become hamburger, casserole to become salad

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