The living room is like dusk on this
cloudy day, rain pours off and on,
I read off and on.

We are scattered around the house,
weaving through rooms, intersecting
here and there to comment on the weather,

books, sketch pads, cellphones in hand.
At lunchtime, we all move toward
the kitchen, talk about what to eat,

prepare food, bumping into each other’s
hips, brushing hands, our dog stays under
our feet as the aroma of sautéed veggies,

garden burgers, and cheese fills the air.
We eat while chatting, flitting about in activities
that we grasp with both hands, holding our

breath before Monday morning.
Time stretches like a cat, but folds
back together just as quick

catching us off guard at bedtime.