Pomes at Eleven

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ELEVEN A.M. SUNDAY

Ladies arrive
in nighties and caftans
for the buffet brunch.

“At our age,”
says one, buttering her toast,
“we let some things go.”

“At my age,”
says the eldest, raising a toast,
“I let every thing go.”


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INVENTORY

He wakes up optimistic.

He wakes up minds
and spirits.
He smiles a lot.

He waters the plants
and the finches.
He tends the cars,
the cats, the fish, and me.
He is generous with praise,
encouragement, flowers,
food, and fun.

Of course, he has ways
over which I inwardly
rant and moan.
He's human; that's part
of the balance.

One of his best attributes:
he doesn't mention
attributes of mine
over which he inwardly
rants and moans.