SOON.
The morning paper will say what we already suspected.
The Art of Expectation
The morning paper will say what we already suspected.
Tea will be poured. The kettle will hiss in B-flat.
One umbrella, in one closet, will be needed within the week.
The new neighbor will introduce themselves on Tuesday.
The post will arrive before nine.
A small kindness will travel three blocks east.
A song you forgot you knew will play in a shop.
You will laugh at something a stranger says.
The cat will choose a different chair this time.
A book you ordered will finally arrive.
The bread will rise. The bread always rises.
You will sleep through the rain you've been waiting for.
The newspaper, the toast, the second cup.
An entirely ordinary parcel at the door.
Wrapped in tissue, the size of a small idea.
Exactly what you expected, but in a different color.