Walking with my Daughter on a Tuesday Afternoon

Your easy pace,
our portal
to the raven
hiccuping
in the tangled
branches,
and the boxelder bug
that lands
on your t-shirt
like a wish.
Your hand
pulls me to slow,
an armful
of fresh eggs
balancing,
and our dusty heels
kick just right,
as we talk about
limeade, and take
the long
way home.

 

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