Dim light from the screen blankets the room
Actors play out their roles frame by frame
My eyes track each movement
while my thoughts focus elsewhere.

My left arm nudges her shoulder
"She is going to leave him," I whisper
The words ignored, brushed away like
an irritating fly.

I'm doing it again, foretelling the story
instead of attending to the display
instead of resting in the now
instead of absorbing each word
I predict the ending.

Later sitting in the quiet
I attempt mindfulness
Aware of the demons
that tempt me from
the peace that passes
my understanding.

Bored to death with eyes cast upward
she drifts by his sprawling legs
like fog rolling in from the sea

Newspapers clutter the breakfast nook
his ink-stained fingers clutch ceramic
birthday cup — last year’s surprise

Today the cup, the tea, his only distractions
The sweep of her garment
grazes his back unnoticed.

She’ll pour the final cup of breakfast tea
and settle into her longings,
empty as her teapot.

Tasteful decor surrounds her
Offspring celebrate life in song
Resonating off walls of art
arranged her way
Life now arranged her way
Worn out obligations
Lay untangled unused
stacked neatly upon
a corner table

Snap, crack, snap -- twigs break underneath
Each burst is music fed deep into her heart
Balmy air blows crisp across her cheek
A kiss as sweet as a daughter's caress
Pride inhaled with each labored breath
Seventeen miles of inclines and slopes
Over fallen trees and swollen creeks
Intentional steps, stitches of success sewn into
the blanket of her soul as she
wanders along the path of her
journey to renewal

Slap, slap of sandals on wet fountain steps

capture glances from eyes set for chapels and castles.

Children splash at each other

as floppy tees and frilly dresses

wave at passersby

who wish they retained the courage to play

atop the fountain and relive the dreams

trampled by lectures and sermons

that chaperoned them to maturity.

Roasted on face and knees,

they confront burning logs

and crackling twigs.

Morsels have been cooked

and eaten: night's cold wetness repelled.

Foremost thought rolls across

their minds — they must

smother the campfire

built with passion

that properly stoked

would last forever.

He has one more marshmallow to roast.

She fears flames will creep out of control

through grass and brush.

She wants to bank the coals

and let them die of their own accord.

He gathers a pail and heads

to the creek.

How do we extinguish fire

that fed our souls for a while?

Find the small of her back
Feel for the round, the ridge
Notice smooth never varies
Find the texture
Along the shoulder
Overwhelmed and
engrossed
As you explore
warmth, texture
the moment of
a hug that says
good morning