We leave the cups beside their rings,
Step out among the ordinary things:
A passing bike, a patch of shade,
The little plans a Wednesday made.
Annie points us down the street,
The afternoon beneath our feet.
The Plant House waiting up ahead,
“Come and see the leaves,” she said.
Wander, wander, side by side,
Let the conversation wind.
Past the corner, through the gate,
There are leaves enough to make us late.
Ten small minutes, nothing grand—
Then a little forest close at hand.
We pause to let a scooter through,
Someone stops to tie a shoe.
Nobody has to set the pace,
There’s time enough to reach the place.
We could drive, but look at this:
A flower in a concrete split.
We might have missed its purple face
If we had hurried through the day.
Wander, wander, side by side,
Let the conversation wind.
Annie holds the garden gate—
Come on in, the cups can wait.