when things are moderately quiet
and the wind blows sweetly
most of the dishes are done
bedtime comes softly
there may be a moment
where the storm inside settles
at least a little
the small stuff they say not to sweat
can that be the cleaning of sinks and floors?
can it be that we order out most nights?
the dogs wrestle and growl and make weird
small snippy noises
the refrigerator mumbles a muted
single noted tune
my daughter drew pictures all night
my oldest argued about homework and still
it got done
there were movies and video games
baths and mayonnaise hair goo
mud masks, candles,
lavender bubbles and books by Vonnegut.
there isn't a single thing
totally whole
but
like the wind
the moments are coming softly
tonight
Perhaps the power to find myself
to find some peace
to find a home
without him
persists
Perhaps it is possible
in the peace of a moderately quite night
after all.
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