If I pay attention, this day will slow.
I won’t look back from a darkened sky
and regret what wasn’t done.
The wind comes, the warm stillness
of yesterday gone in this early spring.
My bouquet of yellow iris
is vibrant after a week, not one fallen petal
on the starched linen cloth.
The only thing I vow to do today
is clip coupons, check the new perennials
for dry spots, make a simple stew.
Too much of life I’ve spent on pledges,
the disquiet of how to fill these twelve hours.
Like the child who thinks the sun
is following her, I place my foot down
against advancing shadows,
and reflect on another time
when threshers went home early.
We sat until the coffee pot emptied,
and our family returned
to the richness of that other Sunday.
Jeanine Stevens has four poetry collections, most recently, Eclipse from Rattlesnake Press. Her poems have also appeared in various literary journals, including Poet Lore, South Dakota Review, and Alehouse Review .