Dust rising and an earth-scent in the air above a field where two tractors ploughed at sunset.
Violent ripping of green husks to reveal perfect golden kernels beneath.
Tiny children holding hands and jumping up and down, unprompted, while I tried to lead them in a song.
Light shining through a white-fabric lampshade.
A room and closet newly clean.
Unnecessary remnants of a first year of graduate school no longer piled on and beside my desk.
Five boys laughing around the kitchen bar.
Mendelssohn and Chopin rediscovered on a pale blue evening.
Weeds pulled, soil raked, pine-straw spread, and a blister on my thumb.
Shadows on the driveway; respite on the way back from getting the mail.
Time to sit and think of words and not feel as though there is need to be doing anything else.
©2011 by Stacy Nott