Thank you to other mothers all over town,
rushing through dinners of grilled cheese
and soup. Spooning warmth into
wriggling children. Wrestling tiny bodies
into masks and coats,
headdresses and long underwear,
insisting the littlest Spiderman
needs mittens.
A round of applause and a superhero cape
for each and every one of us,
who wear this costume for years.
If we’re lucky, we wear it for years.
If we’re lucky, we wear it with joy.
After the holiday, and a decade or two,
the real trick is to smile
when it’s time to pack that costume away.
To see that it’s time
they want to be their own superhero.
Look around
after their whirlwind exit.
The floor is littered with candy corn and glitter.
Sneak a candy bar and answer the door
to meet the next treat at the threshold.
Puff Of Smoke Poems 