New Wish

Once upon a time I was a fool and wished a girl peace;
I wish you now the whirlwind.
I wish you mad sex and thunderstorms,
babies climbing at your calves and wailing in your ears,
a man who's sometimes late and sometimes early,
sometimes on time,
clothes that fit you, food that you need, work that works.
I wish you the glorious boredom of picking up socks,
re-painting the dining room, doctors' visits and dentists' too, and vacations,
some exotic, some close to home, some in-between,
and awkward questions from offspring;
the quiet moment in the night when you feel your house sleep around you,
the roof falling in and re-building.
I wish you graceful aging;
I wish you no tragedy but know it's futile;
I wish you strength, for when futility becomes fact.
I wish you white corn in the summer, and sweet plums in the high heat,
thankfulness in the fall, meat through the winter.
I wish you the long, high, slow glow of the sun in summer, going down,
and a soft bed, a soft bed.
More easy times than hard,
not too much pain, less sadness,
your fair share of joy, more than that of happiness.
I wish you cars that don't crash, and insurance companies that pay when they do,
and a church with real, old, wood pews,
and eyes that see, and ears that hear, and days, days, days
that matter: birthdays, anniversary days,
anniversaries even of bad things that happened;
and mad days, stolen days, days that
you can make entirely your own.
I wish you more things than I know.
I wish you fullness.
I wish you fullness.

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