I’ve spent the last two days

spinning, tossing, chasing, rolling, twirling, hoisting and shuffling children,
pirouetting, rambling, sashaying, hot-air-ballooning, helicoptering and cascading children.

Above my head, through my arms, under my legs, between my calves, alongside my hipbones, circa my wrists,
toward my kneecaps, outside my elbows and around my shoulders.

Now, back home, with a sip of coffee, foot heater, kale soup and the sound of southbound planes flying overhead,
I can see my neighbors piling red and green bags of shapely things through their front door.

Lately there has been a barrage of emotional activity within the red dot of You Are Here.
Let me lie in bed tonight, my muscles sore and my head clear, so thankful. For my senses and the return of my sense.