I wake to the drought breaking,
the muted percussion of rain—
steady, no wind—as though
it had never deserted us
the way love can desert a marriage.
I’d be at the sink washing vegetables
when he came in. He’d glance my way,
go to change clothes. Parched land,
I turn to the man who loves me now,
touch his chest, whisper, “Listen.”
He opens his eyes, and we lie silent.
Then he reaches for my hand.
“I think, today, I love you equally,”
he says. I nod. “Me too.”
– Sarah Russell
Photo courtesy of Unsplash
For Poets United’s prompt “Kintsugi — the art of mending.”