The Separative

I’m ready for the weekend

without you

lolling for hours with a book

puts an Adirondack chair to proper use 

antiquing?  no, thanks

these days, it all seems like junk to me

I’ll hike the park instead. 

I’m alone 

except for a hungry cat

and I love it, I won’t deny. 

though you configure nowhere in this solitude 

But I can’t work the damn TV remote

and I’m weirdly proud of that fact 

though I am sorry I don’t pay attention to your helpful instructions,

I appreciate that you try 

texts for breakfast

texts goodnight 

texts that let me know you’re safe

I’m safe, too. 

how did you sleep 

I’ll make you dinner

bring me a present!

don’t forget your water

your phone

your hat

because I am still here 

Evening Calls

drawn to the porch at dusk

we sit without speaking 

until the orchestra begins

wasn’t it a vireo we would hear

by the old barn at sunset?

I miss that sound

blue jays’ insistent morning squawks. 

woke my childhood home 

one by one 

doves

gold and purple finches

their vibrant tiny bodies 

feed, attract, give notice

all day long

finally, at evening

the soft trill

of shy robins 

they, too, sing in daylight 

but no one hears them, 

drowned out by the din of life

waiting for their chance to say 

goodnight again, I love you