From an exercise I did with my young writing students:

Tomorrow  by Nancy Schatz Alton

Tomorrow is a continuation of sleepy yoga Wednesday.

I’m waiting for the bright kitchens of June. Until then,

let’s ignore the gravity of the future. The stunned red mittens

faint, fall onto the bookshelf. My heart’s annoying lint makes lists;

the slow trudge of daily nachos make room for the pumpkin orange

dance breaks. The mom of my imagination finds fame at 50.

Can you sense the total collapse of the dishwasher hum?

It’s lost within the daily rain’s envelope.