I stand in the kitchen and hope coffee
will rinse away the taste of metal
and the shadow of woolly thoughts.
My daughter runs with the dogs,
reveling in the fullness of spring returned.
Unaware that I am watching, a white
flash of previously clean linen
caroms past the window;
the semi-warmth of the morning
enough to go coatless as she prefers.
Joy of freedom shines through the dirt —
I think I shall not admonish her today.
Posted to The Imaginary Garden