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Shakespeare's Monkeys

Infinite Monkeys. Infinite Typewriters.

More in The Art of Silence

ritual

Leaning against the dirty once-white paint
of  my old pine door frame a red-handled
broom waits to sweep the kitchen floor
free of cracker crumbs and the dirt
trailed in by the kids before supper
last night.

After the table is cleared,
the plans made for tomorrow,
the dishes done,
and we've kissed

She tells them,
don't forget the floor.

I close my eyes
and tilt my head
towards the ceiling

This is why I smile.
Derma Kaput - on Apr. 3 2007
This I like, very much in fact
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