What It Would Take to Make your Husband Happy

First you slip through the door
needing no recognition. Even a monosyllabic greeting
caresses your ears. He takes your briefcase
and finds it's not filled with papers,
but apples- for a pie you want to bake.
As you roll out your own crust, you tell him how your kitchen
warms you, how your town nestles at the peak of the universe.
Then you pack peels and cores into a proper canning jar.
"You never know when you might need them
later on," you say.

After that, you lean on his shoulder and cry a littde
about your cat who died and the blind woman
in the supermarket line. To cheer you up,
he turns on a ball game
in the TV room he planned to finish last year.
You sit on a ladder; your feet on a paint can.
He sits on the tool box next to you. You know
the names of the players and cheer on your team,
which happens to be his. At halftime
you chat about your children,
how perfectly they've turned out. He reaches over
and presents you with a wood shaving.

Uncurling it you say, "Dont you think messy is cozy?"
And then, "I don't need anything
but what you give me."