The shedding

I've noticed

on the weekends

that you shed

because I keep finding

pieces of you

around our little house

Funny 

because some days

I spend a lot of my time

attempting to wipe away

all the things that are shed

around here

It is constantly settling

The remains of the day

work their way

into fabric

and tile

and faces

and respectable folk

wash

and

scrub

and 

whisk

away

such things

But 

after a week

of attempting to order chaos

it is nice

to rest

Plus the way that you shed

is different

anyway

Yours is more a

molting 

The week has grown uncomfortably tight

and you 

just

need

to

breathe

So you flit around the house

absorbing yourself

in the daily

which looks so different

on you

than on me

And as you cook

or iron 

or fold 

or polish

there is an exchange

As you pull me close

and smear me

with kisses

or encircle my frame

with the whole of you

there is an exchange

One skin

for

another

And by eventide

you are born

once again

I will wake in the morning

to find you

everywhere

hair in the sink

soup drips on the stove

grass clippings on the porch

But I'll try not to be so quick to

wipe it all away

Because this shedding of yours

it whispers to me 

that life is always 

being

made 

new