a collaborative poem

Sometimes we think we might’ve done it better.
It could be about the cats, but it’s not.
Other times we can’t believe we’ve done it so well.
Like the day the red peonies from my grandma finally opened…
But then we’re just doing the best we can after all
and there is the morning sun hot on the white cotton sheet.

I am in love with this view out my window
the round hill across the valley
shaped like an oval platter
overflowing at a thanksgiving table
green, green trees,  leaves
under the puff marshmallow clouds
moving slow on the flat blue

I am in love with you too
though I admit at times
I thought of should’ves
thought I knew better how
we could’ve.
But the blue bird lands on the line
between me and this green hill
and I wouldn’t change a thing.