Poem: My Wife is Like the Wind

But not quite in the way you would expect.

I first noticed the likeness
when I saw all the black locust leaves
pushed up against building walls
and street curbs in a tidy line
as if someone had been sweeping all night.

always sweeping, always cleaning,
making our few things tidy—
that’s how it felt in the first few months
of sharing a roof and a bed and two cats
who leave a bounty of hair and litter
everywhere in our small hard-floored apartment.

But let me say it briefly and without irony:
it has become one
of my favorite things about her,
and I am learning softly and slowly
how to make our home clean
so our minds can find
rest in that peaceful place.

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