Front porch at sunset.
My feet in your lap. You smile.
“Happy eighteen months.”
After dinner
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Front porch at sunset.
My feet in your lap. You smile.
“Happy eighteen months.”
Long wooden table,
Seats shared, like a bench (like kin).
Laughter through the night.
Cuff, ankle, turn the heel.
A project for anywhere.
Boxes fill bedroom.
Rows of squashy chairs.
Four activists share wisdom,
reflect, inspire, lead.
Practice pirouettes,
Quarter turn, half turn, full turn.
Now, about spotting …
Old faces with new;
Four tables pushed together.
Like I never left.
Spider plants in mugs.
Blue grass band sets up at six.
Afternoon work spot.
Limerick contest,
Corned beef, cabbage, soda bread.
Annual rite of spring.
“I’ll take her; you: him.”
Real updates cast off small talk’s
cloak, on the drive home.
Windows south and west:
Leaves glisten, buds pop, birds flirt.
Light glows all around.