My world is full of sounds at play –
phrases flit frivolous through my day:

“Pot and matches, pot and matches
go together like a plot that hatches “

(it’s a mnemonic,
it’s not symphonic,
and it isn’t about smoking –
it’s for making oatmeal)

With a spoon and a bowl
and a sprinkle of soul
and a knife and a fork
and equations for torque

Through the rain and the sun
with the work never done
but the days ever full of their splendor
and lines that would do well to end here.

©Wendy Mulhern
May 12, 2020