Different Hands

I know how quickly we forget
the small offices of love, daily
offerings of cut fruit, clean
dishes, I love you mouthed
through windows. We forget
all in the presence of strength,
a truck heavy with steel,
the wind bending a maple,
lightning: a great something
different from us together,
a reminder that outside us,
a fence, lurks an animal
who can come in only
if we open the gate. We
forget we are two kites
riding the same wind, strings
held by different hands. We
should remember our own garden
blooms and the fruit tastes sweet
and the shade comforts.