a brief respite, today: the sweet distraction
of the domestic, a Sunday afternoon
laundry and garbage and  the futility
of hauling recycling to the curb; she cooks
between our short bursts of energy for chores
the cadence of letting the dogs out and in

and I sit in my chair, smoke my pipe
thinking about replacing the dead
flourescent light above the kitchen sink,
repairing again the sink, and more laundry
and moving winter gear
upstairs, and the high water dropping
and what Monday will look like
as the TV chef prepares chicken scampi