McCormick Park, Missoula Montana by Ann Leamon

In maple shade, hot noon turns

to speckled twilight. A mother and two

daughters wear blue-

checked jumpers, play swings

and seesaw, eat

a picnic lunch, and leave

for naps. The little one

is fussy, the older

bossy, the mother

patient.

I was the older sister, in a purple

gingham dress my mother sewed

like hers, like my little

sister’s. I was bossy,

she was fussy, my mother

endlessly patient as time stretched

to the end of the block.

Sometimes, at the end of a day,

all you can say

is that you’ve brought

your children

with you.

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Ann Leamon's bifurcated world includes venture capital research, economic policy analysis, and creative writing. In addition to writing a textbook and 150 cases for Harvard Business School, she has published poetry in the Charles River Review, the Bennington Review, the Wife of Bath, and the Barefoot Muse. She lives in Gloucester, Massachusetts with her husband and a mostly-golden retriever.