One house and this rhythm of ritual:
6:00 am, 8:00 am, 4:00 pm—our laptops open
in the kitchen, the living room, a bedroom,
Hellos at the refrigerator, while ascending/
descending the stairs, the constant tap of keys
the background of faraway horses we’re all riding—
professor/parents, one-day professor/son—
across this long expanse of knowledge where we’re
kicking up dust someone goes out for a walk;
someone returns on our way to a strange horizon
we hope is sunrise. Good morning.
Good afternoon. Good night. And we gather
for whatever’s unfrozen or freshly baked,
and we watch what makes us laugh or tear up
or say Proud of you. Love you. Thank you.
And one stays up all night writing essays.
And two wake up early grading essays.
And everywhere there is typing and Zoom.
And on the morning and the evening
of the forty-second day, there is much darkness,
but also light. And it was good.
It was still good.

Previously published in MER VOX