litany after Billy and Jacques

You are the pillows on the floor
The pie crust and the apples
You are the sticker on the window of your car
and the christmas lights on the trellis
You are the soft blankets and the bobby pins
and the tennis balls hiding in the forest

However, you are not the crumbs on the counter
The washrags on the stairs
Or the goldfish hiding in our backyard pond.
And you are certainly not the noises
Of settling dishes in the cupboard at night
There is just no way that you are that noise.

It is possible that you are the squirrels playing in the grass
maybe even the small herb garden
but you are not even close
to being the wind among the evergreens

And a quick look in the mirror will show
that you are neither the colander in the cabinet
nor the whippet asleep under the covers

It might interest you to know,
speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world,
that I am the rumbling of the motorcycle engine

I also happen to be library book on the mantle
the chocolate syrup at the bottom of the coffee cup
the post it note in the kitchen
and the toolbox in the basement

I am also the first ray of the sun
and the swirling eddy in the river
But don't worry, I'm not the pillows on the floor
You are still the pillows on the floor
You will always be the pillows on the floor
not to mention the pie crust and--somehow--the apples.