A Saturday morning at home for the first time in a month. Waffles, laundry, a walk in the morning sunshine picking up autumn-frosted leaves. Bills, kid's chores, looking around in astonishment at the house saying there's so much to do. Tonight a band contest, a party, and tomorrow church with a friend. A friend sends along a poem and I send a Levertov back:

There are Days

There are days
when I believe in
the reconciliation of old walls,

in stone fences giving up
to the weather,
when calla lilies

are white flags
and all the grass bends
to the southern wind,

days when doors open,
the table set for tea,
telegrams arriving

that say I am loved just as I am,
when I loosen my grip

on the cup, set it down,
turn up my palms, and they bloom like crocuses.

~Jean Janzen