Autumn Interlude

she waves her baby off
holding back the tears
he’s so grown up--
his lunch box
adorned with the latest superhero
his backpack giving him
a turtle’s silhouette.

long hours in the kitchen
imagining his first day.
would he find friends?
would he find the right bus home?
she forgets dressing
washing her face
combing her hair
eating her meals
even the endless snacking
she usually shares with him
all is forgotten
in the clamoring silence of his absence.

the wind blows him home—
she rushes outside
as the clock chimes dusk.
ready to gather him
back into the cocoon.
but he tears away—
too caught in the magic of the new
to care about what has always been—
what he believes will ever be.

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