You Might (Poem from a time past)

You Might

You might find me there at the kitchen sink,

nearing seven p.m.,

with the water gone tepid,

bubble warranty on the Dawn spent.

My head is in the clouds,

hands lost in a sauce pan.

More often than not my thoughts do stray

to the hillside out the window,

to a few days from long ago.

Memories taking me to the point now that I don't 

mind so much doing the dishes.

You might also notice that many days my gaze

still follows you.

Your trek up and down the rows of potatoes,

pumpkin expeditions,

tiller dilemas,

drawn back in only by the occasional

"Momma what's this word."

Then I return,

reheating the water,

with a smile towards the sunshine streaming in

along with past pictures painted in my head

and the ones I'm only just beginning to create.