Boundaries

You color outside of the lines

But there's still the edge of the page

You color over the edge

Onto the floor

But there's still the wall

You color out onto the sidewalk

The driveway

The road

But there's still the curb

The grass line

You color into the field

But there's still

The horizon

You color the sky

The clouds

There's still the atmosphere

You fly into space

And color the earth

The planets

The stars

And all that's in between

There's still

You

You color

Yourself

There's still

The crayon

It's already colored, you say?

Yes

But

Not

By you

Early Spring

The melting snow

Has uncovered

Fallen twigs

And branches

Still clawing the air

In what must have been

A last

Desperate attempt to

Hold on

A faded paper flier

That had escaped the clutches of

The screen door

Has been captured by the bush

Standing sentry

At the edge of the walkway

Bits of Styrofoam appear

Bright against the tufts of

Brown grass

And I am reminded

In my own winter

That certain things will never

Be revealed

Until there is

A thaw

Lunch Box

Routine:

The half-pint carton of milk

Always

Goes in first

Next

The fruit cup and yogurt

Nest together

Carrots

Apple

Then sandwich

On top

Ritual:

There is leftover pizza

And I still

Only

Take a sandwich