POETRY
Noon — VII
When the doors open for early release,
once a week, a free afternoon
beacons with endless possibilities
for the Mother and the Warrior Child.
They unsheathe their pens like swords,
mighty tools to bend words to their will.
Quiet settles between them, the kind that will
make room for creative release.
As with a flash and a clang a sword
makes itself known, so their afternoon
ignites and sings with thoughts: the child
inside them both rejoices with possibilities.
The silent focus at their cafe table makes possible
concentration, but other conversations will
drift in; with childlike
glee they release
their inhibitions and eavesdrop on the afternoon.
Next door, tongues attack with swords.
Parrying the glance of eyes like swords,
the Mother reckons the possibilities
that arise after noon:
snacks, homework, and exercise will
want attention once leisure is released.
Reality is needy as a little child.
