Day Home with Dad

DAY HOME WITH DAD

When mom leaves she runs to the storm door

and presses her hands against the glass

between them now. Despite her promise of return

there are many tears as the white car carries

her like a cloud, out of sight. A man appears

then by her side, and taking her hand 

says something like “she’ll be back later,

she promised,” gently turning her around

to go eat breakfast, because there is 

more than enough work to be done here

and plenty of play too in the long hours 

of waiting, and we’ll need a good meal 

to keep us strong until the longed-for sound

of gravel as the rocks cry out a triumphal return.