by Marissa Bell Toffoli.
There is too much forgetting.
I hold my breath
as if it will hold everything–
press pause for us.
An alarm chimes, the laundry
is done. A car beeps in the distance,
traffic moves on. I chide myself,
don’t let the day’s distractions lead.
Through the kitchen window,
I pocket another glance of you.
I collect memories
like a squirrel after acorns.
Maroon leaves, still wet,
make the path slippery
under the maple tree.
But there is no palace more grand
than the crook of that tree
for your limbs to perch,
stealing time and watching
the world from on high.
One breath at a time.
My heart blooms for you
over and over again.
Pay attention.
This landscape is ours to tend.
Wind rustles the branches,
a whisper of rain.
Exhale.