The Morning of the Last Day of Vacation
the cicada bounces on the deck in an
eruption of fierce ticking & electric expression
the crow will not stop circling & cawing
the air is slathered with the scent of manure
farmland is near, ripe
the knot of worry in my belly has eyes
it’s looking up at me waiting for its cue
to tighten – I won’t give it
won’t let sadness claw & fray the edges
of peace that have tenderly unfurled
like newborn fingers reaching for light
each day’s current is loss-driven
undertoes of grief swirl at my ankles
like soft kisses
it doesn’t have to be hard or painful
or scary, this languid letting go
I’d like to learn how to lift up
glide above it
bounce like the cicada
circle & caw like the crow
farm the worry into tight rows
that look like art when
zoom past them
VANESSA SHIELDS, writer 
When my daughters were young, I watched other moms get excited to see school begin, while I mourned letting go of our summer together and always tried to fit in one more thing to make memories. You’ve reminded me of that.
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