If I pay attention, this day will slow.

I won’t look back from a darkened sky

and regret what wasn’t done.

The wind comes, the warm stillness

of yesterday gone in this early spring.

My bouquet of yellow iris

is vibrant after a week, not one fallen petal

on the starched linen cloth.

The only thing I vow to do today

is clip coupons, check the new perennials

for dry spots, make a simple stew.

Too much of life I’ve spent on pledges,

the disquiet of how to fill these twelve hours.

Like the child who thinks the sun

is following her, I place my foot down

against advancing shadows,

and reflect on another time

when threshers went home early.

We sat until the coffee pot emptied,

and our family returned

to the richness of that other Sunday.

Jeanine Stevens has four poetry collections, most recently, Eclipse from Rattlesnake Press. Her poems have also appeared in various literary journals, including Poet Lore, South Dakota Review, and Alehouse Review .