The meaning of life sneaks in
the open kitchen window
you forgot to close last night:
a cool breeze caressing the back
of your neck, sweaty
from closed curtains and frying bacon,
so you linger for an extra minute,
feeling cleaner than a second dose of detergent
to make sure all the grease is gone,
but also feeling wiser than cracked boiled eggs,
only to realize such epiphanies
and are swept away like crumbs
by those who are kept awake
by dirty dishes left in the sink.
Richard LeDue (he/him) lives in Norway House, Manitoba, Canada. He has been published both online and in print. He is the author of nine books of poetry. His latest book, “It Could be Worse,” was released from Alien Buddha Press in May 2023.