my table holds my husband’s work station- double computers and all
my children each set up randomly round the house with their laptops
and i
do nothing
which is to say i read and write and practice handwriting
poke ghosts with sticks then water the garden but nothing big
I’m the trivial life
tonight i am well enough to cook dinner spaghetti
i laugh with my children past bedtime
question each about their care of each pet
i wander far into my own thoughts
a cloak of silence
and watch the cars on the highway make a lap