ManicDDaily

Arriving in the Country First Time That Summer
(alone with kids)

We lay outside
even as night fell
and this was kale
for my whole life–something
nourishing–

the sky turning deep greens
to violet,
the way that summer evenings are
inviolate, an inked imprint of yes,
I voted for this–

I may have even
read aloud a teeny bit, squinting,
as we drank last year’s lemonade–all that was left
in the freezer, and
ate, delightedly, popcorn made from a jar found
in the pantry, a bottle bobbing
at sea–

Not even that dusk’s aura ever
actually leaves–our blanket, a comforter (you know, stitched)–
and big enough (you two knit
to my sides),
to fit the smocking
of stars above,
to shield us
from the blades
below–

which felt so cold
to our bare feet, when, at last,
we ran in through the
long dewed grass,
though we laughed, laughed–

***********************
A poem for my own prompt on Real Toads about something real (expressed with some artifice); the pic is of a sculpture by Picasso from the show currently at MOMA; I do not know the title, photo by me.