When
the air is fresh
you
feel it: you get stronger
with
each breath.
Your
son
is
slicing oranges
and
it’s so sweet—
he’s
so sweet—the scent
of
his golden-brown hair
warm
with sun.
The
old deck creaks a bit
as
you walk on it,
cracked
and weather worn
as
you are,
but
still here,
still
here.
©
2019 Jennifer Wagner