the cardinals conversation in the treetops
a firetruck's warning cry
The Dog's wagging tail
She dances on tiptoes
on window sills
on table tops
But she especially knows how to
d a n c e o n m y l a s t n e r v e
She wakes earlier on the days
that she knows
her father and oldest brother are away
and I am shorthanded for help
She wakes in an ornery state
She throws her toys
before the first bite of breakfast passes her lips
She asks for cookies
I tell her, No.
She yells, Stop being a crabby. Stop being a brat!
and she falls to the floor
You go hos-pit-a-bal! she demands
I'm not that far gone
Yet
No hospital, I deny the suggestion of emergency help
No!! Hos-pit-a-bal! she insists, louder this time
hospitable
hospitable
I let the word seek a spot in my mind that is not simmering
and when it cannot find a place to take purchase
I know
that my brow has been too furrowed
my teeth are grinding
my shoulders are tight
We have a staring contest
She knows how to dance on my last nerve
but she is also gifted in dancing back into my good graces
She cocks her head to the side
assessing my countenance,
