Come see the beautiful outside

She asks for a particular album “the one with the boys singing”

I know which one but play stupid so that
                it’s a surprise: ”yes that’s the one I mean, that’s the one I wanted”

I turn it up–my son has never heard the sound so loud

he is not sure whether to be afraid or …
I can see that he is very tired

My daughter sings along in Kiara meows (not Narla–the grumpy one).

He cannot understand, decides it is crying
I lift up my son; his warmth is my own soul’s–the kitchen is spread out
                with his busy-ness.

Now it’s time for bed

We do the children train to her ramshackle room

“Come let’s look outside, come see the beautiful outside”

Then, a fulguration of the whole garden,

it was brilliant day, the end of days
and the start of others
                here comes the thunder