POEM-A-DAY APRIL 2012

Day 7 – 2 people interacting without speaking

He stands, hands in shorts pockets
breathing deeply. He raises his eyes
scans the sky, pokes his finger
into soil, studies the dry crumbs.

She steps down off the patio, pulls
at a dandelion. The stem breaks off,
roots stay, ready to sprout again.
She sighs, deeply. He smiles at her.

Plucks a wand of oregano, inhales,
holds it out. She waves the wand,
crushes some leaves, closes her eyes
as she breathes in, then sets them free.

Turning as one, they enter the house:
mother and Sunday visitor, her son.