Today I have tried my best to indulge myself.

It seems the only sensible thing to do in the midst of such senselessness.

Made with three eggs,
Flour, sugar, butter,
Sweetened by the fingers
Of a boy and his brother.

The super-secret cure
For a patience worn thin?
A table full of boys
With frosting on their chins.

Over ate
Overrate

Through the pain
Through the pane

Broken gate
Broken gait

Gentle rain
Gentle reign

You have one
You have won

Always write
Always right

My mind drifts.
And then I find it, wandering after you.

It follows you back, years from here,
To that day you held my hand
While the lazy afternoon stretched out under the Texas sun.

My dress was white.

You smiled at me, so soft and so sure,
And squeezed my fingers.

I squeezed back and then kissed you on the outside corner of your eye,
As I would again and again, for years to come.

When sticky smiles stretch out for miles
On faces, pink and round,
And laughter bounces off the walls -
A pure and perfect sound.

When tired eyes resist the pull
Of sweet and tender rest,
And fusses are forgiven, for
Each boy has tried his best.

When darkness drapes across the sky
And wrestles with the light,
Til day folds up its tired wings
And nestles into night.

Deep frowns smear mouths that smiled moments before,
Laughs spiral into bitter-tasting whine,
Harsh words are strewn like clothes over the floor -
What’s worse is that plenty of them are mine.

Then you walk in the door with smile so wide,
Sweet joy leaps, spinning sunlight in my chest,
Lost patience finds its way back to my side,
Soft calm falls down like snow on all the rest.

My weatherman has saved me from this hail,
And rescued three boys from their Mother’s Gale.