Newspapers in yellowed stacks lean
nearly to the floor. Out the window,
afternoon settles like an old saddle.
Later, your sister and her greasy
husband will sit on the porch
well past their welcome and complain
again about your pot roast
even as they pick it from their teeth.
You phoned the children, Sunday,
only to find that all are quite well—
with health and money enough.
Our trip to Palm Springs is not only
confirmed now but imminent. Yesterday,
I smiled to see the new buds of yellow
Dream Come Trues but with any luck,
caught myself in time.
(Western Humanities Review, 2012)