The aroma wafts
Through my house
Like the sweet
Melodies of music
Teasing me with
Sun its shyness
Begins to break
Beneath sparse clouds
Like the eggs
Now frying white
And yellow as
I stretch like
A lazy cat
Cup in hand
I wait like
A Christmas child
For the presents
Promised this day
Outside my window
I spy tiny
Glass ornaments hanging
Off of leaves
They mirror and
Magnify in little
Ways things around
Them and if
I listen closely
I can hear
Them scream weeeeee
As the fall
And bounce to
The floor below
And I remember
That night in
The tent made
Of blankets and
Sheets we were
Explorers in the
Jungles off borabora
We pretended then
Creating lions tigers
And creepy crawling
Things with hands
And fingers and
Flashlights eating beans
And hot dogs
Just as sleep
Took hold I
Felt your fingers
Poke and tickle
Making me squeal
It’s like that
This morning many
Many years later
Us still adventurers
There are voices
Which speak yet
No one listens
They’re heard in
Wildflowers and oh
Those breezes that
Blow through willows
In a baby’s
Gurgle and a
Puppies yelp in
A tire on
Moist streets and
A bicycle bell
Try to stop
Listening to those
Voices in your
Mind they lie
Listen to others
To hear the
Gleeful abandon of
Life and smile
And like happenstance
You popped into
My life like
Freshly buttered toast
Anticipated and warm
Crisp and fresh
I melted on
You like a
Pad of butter
We talked and
There we blended
Being one thing
And now another
Let me hear
You crack as
I coat the
Throat with saltiness
At long last
Two things eventually
Become just one
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 