There is a green truck out by the barn. It's Thursday so the man pulls the garbage can down the driveway to the road. Two black dogs follow. His daughter is in the house, up in her room. She is reading a love letter. There is a concert stub she smiles when she sees.
They met at 4pm sharp under a Japanese Magnolia her Dad planted when he heard she would be born.
Then she was sixteen.
When did the world begin? The boy asks.
It hasn't yet, the girl answers.The people here, they're just the planners. This tree, she leans against it, is the center of all that will be. On the map of everything this is where it begins.
We must be so lucky, the boy leans till his back rests on the ground, looks up into the leaves.
The girl lies on her stomach. She is next to the boy and propped up on her elbows. Yes, she smiles. We are lucky. Some say blessed but no more than anyone else.
That can't be, he looks at the girl, 'cause we have the tree.
She giggles, Nobody doesn't.
You're silly, he turns to face her. What do you mean?
That is what has been planned, she smiles. The world, it will begin with a kiss under a tree.
Today I am grateful for a stillness, a lovely little quiet.