The day was so tender
it almost broke (us) in two
the buds on the trees
lime-toned and ready to uncoil
the doves not yet married, nestless
A squirrel carried one of
last year’s nuts around
in his mouth, forgetting
there would be new ones
(We) wondered out loud
if this was the day that
the earth would slip from
under the sun, it shining
so timid like that where
half wished for deaths
might carry (us) into a place
where the bones no longer
broke
breaking makes life so long
The sun came up as usual though
the doves built their nest
chicks hatched
the squirrel dropped his
old walnut and went to
Sunday school
believing in the world again
(We) talked about how if each morning
time might change
maybe there would no longer be a
need for galoshes
or guns or a 9 to 5
day in day out so that the hours
are not sometimes a thing to be gotten
through and some circles of time wouldn’t
feel so much more full than others
and (you) said with final banality, “it’s perspective,”
and (we) both slipped back into (our) bodies
looked at (our) watches and
got dressed for another
round

Image credit:Jenn Zed

Maria Mazzenga writes poetry from her home in Arlington, Virginia.  She's collaborated on four books of art and poetry with Roger Doyle, and has had poetry published most recently in The Amethyst Review, The Bitchin' Kitsch, and Eyedrum Periodically.