what my list looks like

the quiet when both of the males in my life
are sleeping. it's an innocence, twitchless
and dreaming, one i can love without neccesity.

the way wind blows over water, movement
without changing places.

things that didn't burn in the fire.
everything i've managed to cart as life
moves from one house to the next.

cafe con leche with evap milk.
slight warmth of my sundress over my legs
against a spring chill.

the vision of tonight's bonfire.
the fact that i'm not married anymore.

my daughter calls and wants to come over.
my son is pleasure to have around, and the fact
that i can tell him this, and he believes it.

the sound of the stand up bass
the way the bow demands attention
and careful handling. you cannot force it
you must simply guide it.

the ever presence of ghosts i call
friends. how i don't let them go so much as wait
for them to say hello again. the wait.

granola bars, chewey. creme horns. hot honey
glazed donuts. the smell of popcorn.

that old man.

that young man.

the way he looks at me, as if this
were forver. the way the wind blows thru me
when i believe it.