day job


    I posted this earlier today and then spent some time reading Mary Oliver’s A Poetry Handbook, which led me to do a little revising.

    it was good he was so hard at work
    there was much to do from where he stood
    next to the bags of candy

    while his mother browsed the stacks
    of cards and books a good distance away
    across the wide pine boards

    of what was once a tobacco warehouse
    now a coffee house and grocery store
    he carried two bags at a time

    shuffling his baby blue Crocs across the floor
    his eyes beaming as bright as his smile
    and not once did she ever tell him to stop

    she simply received the shipments
    from her determined and diminutive deliverer
    and kept about her task

    until their work was done and it was time to go
    she put the bags back in their bucket
    and they smiled their way home to a well-deserved nap


    P. S. — There’s a new recipe.


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