by Laura Sera
Oatmeal in the morning
and salad at lunch.
Vinyls for the dinner hour
ready on the turntable.
They are gone and I wring my idle hands
as we fill the quiet house with music.
Waking at 7
and walking at noon.
Pondering the half-filled day
as the schedule has fallen away.
“They just need to fly,” he says. “We’ll be ok.”
And believe him, I try.
Breaking my stride
and breaking my heart.
Everyone moves on and everyone moves off.
Then he puts his arms around me
as I turn to him.
He is my talisman,
this lover of mine,
steadiness in a shifting landscape.
Throwing open the curtains
that lift with the breeze,
I turn my face to the morning sun.
“Let’s go for a walk” I say,
taking his hand.
Working the garden
and kneeling in prayer.
So many weeds to finally pull;
they are everywhere.
I brush the hair from my eyes,
and soft like a sigh
is my whispered goodbye.
and salad at lunch.
Vinyls for the dinner hour
ready on the turntable.
They are gone and I wring my idle hands
as we fill the quiet house with music.
Waking at 7
and walking at noon.
Pondering the half-filled day
as the schedule has fallen away.
“They just need to fly,” he says. “We’ll be ok.”
And believe him, I try.
Breaking my stride
and breaking my heart.
Everyone moves on and everyone moves off.
Then he puts his arms around me
as I turn to him.
He is my talisman,
this lover of mine,
steadiness in a shifting landscape.
Throwing open the curtains
that lift with the breeze,
I turn my face to the morning sun.
“Let’s go for a walk” I say,
taking his hand.
Working the garden
and kneeling in prayer.
So many weeds to finally pull;
they are everywhere.
I brush the hair from my eyes,
and soft like a sigh
is my whispered goodbye.
Laura Sera is a grandmother, poet and spiritual director based in Berkeley, California. She
co-teaches a class on active listening for sacred living. Her poetry reflects the
meaning she encounters in the hallowed beauty of the small and ordinary life. Laura
lives with her husband and golden retriever, both of whom make her strive to be a
better human.