September

Back to 5:30 weekday rising,

packing lunches in stainless steel tiffins,

spraying the kids with water to wake them,

then the band of bowls, spoons,

soymilk, and cereal boxes playing at the table.

The final measure in the morning song:

crescendo of socks, shoes, backpacks,

footsteps hurrying into the car by 6:45.

But for the first time in 18 years,

the restart of this routine is smoother.

I do not have to prepare my lunch

nor worry about lesson plans,

can wear yoga pants and a wicking shirt.

And after dropping the kids off,

six and half hours of alone time

with puppy, a book, steaming tea.

What will I do with these 180 paid days?

Absorb the air, travel through pages, cities, woods,

practice inversions, write freely,

fulfill simple wishes:

wonder and wander around the Whitney,

read more Baldwin and watch I Am Not Your Negro,

listen to Moth stories and altlatino,

better myself as a mother and citizen.