Beneath the clatter of cups and the chatter of our morning,
The fear of falling bombs buzzed like neon—
The fear of mushrooms, of bodies undone
Even the dust, after, destroying all

But out the door,
The quiet whine of the café’s sign blended into morning
And there was no warning on the radio
Just some roads being stirred by cars scrambling to their tasks, making ambient the rain

Across the street, the open sign was flipped
As the package boys and clerks got ready for their shifts
Donning aprons as the day continued spinning into life

A truck downshifted, the school bus braked
And a soundtrack in snippets could be heard as cars passed—
Van Halen, Madonna, Cindy Lauper

Beneath the most dangerous hanging sword, life moves on
Like ants building tunnels, happy in our oblivion, unaware of any threat above—
In that chambered Nautilus
In that quiet chrysalis
Entire worlds were formed:

My mother took my hand, just before school, and we cut through the scent of bread in the bakery, as she grabbed a banana for my lunch
As the quiet steps of the manager stopped and he checked his clipboard
As the ding of the oven preluded a blast of warmth,
My mother snuck a cherry turnover onto the conveyor belt, smiling at me with mischief, in the soft joy of innocent pleasure at odds with a Tuesday morning

Then we made our way into all the miracle
Out in the bright pink morning, as everyone made their way to something—
To the next thing
And Mom and I walked hand-in-hand, undefiled by any fear