Regardless of the Weather

by Carolin Messier

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As I look up from my breakfast bowl
of blueberries and Greek yogurt
the same as yesterday and the day before
and the day before that
and every day for weeks,
a non-decision I choose to make,
the low-shining sun illuminates the schmutz
on the pane of picture window
all pine pollen and dust
cooking smoke, fire soot, and dander
grime inside and out
its contrast to light
obscures the view of the sleeping swings
the monkey bars and slide
that will soon feel the tremble
of shrieks and laughter.

The children will come, they always do
regardless of the weather,
though Saturday sunshine brings out the most
the children will come
because they must;
to play is their reason for being
to swing and run and climb and chase
to be alive in their little bodies
testing and trying, risking and growing.

The sun illuminates the sediment of sorrow
inside and out, grief clinging
to the pane of picture window
I notice it there as I look up from my bowl,
looking for children bathed in the rays.
All I see is the haze
of morning sun on loss,
it’s too early for child’s play anyway
but the children will come
they always do regardless of the weather
whether I look up from my bowl or not
the children will come
even if I never clean the windows.