2.7
January 22, 2012

Meditation on Spilled Milk.

Weary children sleep late
school awaits
predictable moments
no longer apply.
Mom the director
scans clipboard events.
Force past schedule or
practice presence?

Time
trips
over
itself
trips
time
act falls behind.
Mom pushes, prods
frantically waves.
Sensitive kids
dart, leap
Mom schedule-bit
forced
to
make
this
morning
fit.

Elbows and knees
belly-up to the counter.
Glazed eyes track Mom
only two laps behind.
Lunches drop in
nylon turtle shells
huff  puff
round the corner
one lap to finish line.

Child raises a cup
hurry quakes her arm.
Milk swishes the sides
cup tips
milk
cascades
down
hopes
schedule
drown.

Mom gasps
shock inhaled
anger escapes
too quick
plants on face
contorted and sick.

Soaked witness cowers
saltwater tumbles.
Mom swiftly repairs
clears the docket
expression yanked off
stuffed in back pocket.

Child storms the stairs
other child watches.
Mom bends to knee
gulps
a deep
breath
cloth presses to floor
silence
floods the room.
Mom anchors
in stillness pose
presence in full bloom.

Slow
circular
mantras
wipe hurry up.
Awareness blossoms
in soundless moment.
Meditation on spilled milk
absorbs illusionary torment.

Changed child arrives
conscious magic
made milk vanish.
Mom draws in
little innocence.
Wrapped in warm snuggle
love spills
time
tension
stills.

Breaks squeal
Little socks
still kiss the floor.
Mom dressed in smile
fills three cups
huddles crew in
giggles
chase
swallows
silly
lips
dance
bus not a scheduled event
in this beautiful trance.

Scales finally tipped
routine didn’t fit.
Next time
instead of speed up
Mom can
moment by moment
rewrite the script.

By Alexandra Folz

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