This morning I woke and
something seemed
different.
It was the subtle rippling
of a leaf   dropping
half a mile upstream.

I stretched, breathing in
the crisp morning
and started down the
long dirt road
in search
of this morning's paper.

My neighbor---
What was her name?---
waved and called out,
asking about my baby.
On the way back,
while I was singing out of tune,
the thin orange plastic
filled with headlines
swinging by my side,
She hollered again
and invited me in
for coffee

Where I learned her name was
Lydia   and her husband,
whom I had seen   but never met,
was about to retire
but then he died
just last week.

And I
I made a note
to bring her a casserole.
As I walked home
I continued to think
Something  seems slightly
different
somehow, like an
almost familiar face
that I just could not recall.

I sat down with a bowl of cereal and my
paper.  Rather than
bold print announcing
the latest violent crime
or political squabble,
"Local Youth Brightens Lives"
and the picture caught my eye
of the 7-year-old
who stood on Main Street
with a loose-weave oaken basket
handing posies to everyone
Everyone
who passed.

And I learned on page A-3
that the war was over  at last,
finished because one of
the wives of the 'enemy'
had learnt the President's favorite cookie
and had sent 12 dozen along with
an invitation to mosque.

Yes, it is somewhat different.

On my way to work
no one tailgated
no one
and three people  paused
to let me out
into the busy traffic  so

I arrived early at work
and found a card from
my boss
telling me
how much my efforts
are appreciated.