Day One - anna kiss

The Road Home

snow blankets Gandhi's head and shoulders
in his iron-clad march
through Roosevelt Park,

blue and red lights of police
picking up a stolen vehicle
bounce wildly silent
off the stone bridges and various bronzed busts,

and long-bare branches begin to loosen
as the temperature warms slightly,
introducing a brief respite in winter's onslaught.

we make our way along the curving road
our eyes tired and our throats aching
with too much talking
and too many awake hours

the journey is but a pause from week end
to week beginning

our already too-tired hearts
will once again weary themselves
under the burden of daily chores
and daily struggles

the making of bread, beds, dreams,
and the dismantling of sibling drama

the boys restless, in need of space
for snowmen and icicle collecting
to break this hibernatory ritual

these weeks trapped under snow
and beneath the frigid moods
of parents caught in the snare
of work and life and the pressing ever on,

to home and back again,
from the grown-up escape
of long nights of
talking, drinking, talking.

and this steady unraveling of time,
this road passing February
out from under us.