Walking back from the annual Mother’s Day Celebration with my toddler Roy

 

I point to the place in the sky where the clouds had soaked in an outburst of colors

For some reason, I told him that the blue and purple of the clouds

were the feathers of stricken peacocks that had dissolved whence they floated towards the sky.

 

He asked who had stricken them and I said the children

 

Then we were in a field of flowers

The tulips looked like a blossom of lips

 

Why he asked. Why did they strike them.

 

I didn’t know where I was going with this.

 

They were jealous of their beauty I said.

 

 

When the flower petals fall off trees, the outdoors seems like a room.

 

Today I traded “good day’s” with my neighbor.

Our voices ripened quickly in our new surroundings.

A room with the walls shattered to pieces and fragments falling.

 

We went to check and collect the mail at the mailbox, walking side by side in silence.

 

But why were they so beautiful, he asked.