By: Linda M Crate

the trees and the sun
beckon me
outside and i follow
without
thought of the dishes or the laundry
mopping or vacuuming floors
life is made for the living
and dust is for
the dead;
let me just embrace the moments
that come to me
before then—
mayhaps i’ll have a thousand tomorrows
or maybe just this one
and so let me
live
unburdened and freed by the constraints
of domesticity;
i will always be more than a woman—
mothers are wonderful
but so are old maids,
and though i would rather the former
than the latter
no prince has yet come to me;
and so i will dance
in the rivers and sing in the trees and enjoy
today while it lasts because
no two days are the
same:
i want to remember the joy of today—
because tomorrow’s
joy won’t be the same.