An Equation Of Days Poem by Jenny Kalahar

Curved like a familiar road that leads to home
weedy and winding through green fields
Curved like Mother's soft arm
supporting her baby's bathwarm body
Straight as a white wooden chair at the kitchen table
holding Father's weight before his tractor will
Straight like clean, new lumber
stacked waiting for nails to make them into shelter
Round as round as round as the O of yawning lips
and curls of hair
And round as pads of toes and tip of nose
as her darling runs to hug
Swift as day moves into mellow bedtime, swift as night to day
Swift as that lanky boy diving from the dock
to swim toward home
Swift as the years that rush to turn him into young man
and then to man
Slow as the time between visits, slow as slow as slow the months
Slow as the thin, veined hands
that pet fading photos in their yellowed albums
Slow as the clock that ticks alone in the silent room
tick … tick … tick
All as curved and straight, round and swift
slow and deep and shallow
All of our days
They swirl into their own, little creatures
They turn into memories or are forgotten
But they don't really add up to an ending
And our equation is still the equation
No fractions, no remainders
These days add up to one, solid thing
And it will be love, only love
only love that's left behind