the sun is low


the sun is low, the air has chilled

we take our books and empty glasses and go inside . . . 


interior space

it could be a cathedral   sanctified   holy

stone and beams


aged   like whiskey   to a smokey hue

a heavy room

a man's room   colin's grandmother lost that battle


but upstairs

in the bedrooms

she won


with the long view over hills of live oaks 

over the hills and rows of vines

rows of vines and tractors and workers and quiet sunsets


and at night   an invitation

to find something within oneself   quietude perhaps




but quietude is just one thing

there is so much more

colin's grandmother chose what was practical


and it proved to be

blankets and curtains and bedding she bought years ago

seem as fresh to my eyes


as they must have been to hers forty or fifty years ago

and warm   

the weight of wool can make a difference   and does


the colors she chose are light 

soft and . . . cafe au lait

with the curtains tied back as they are now


moonlight coming in

it is inviting   and we are the guests of honor






Poetry by one trick pony The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 329 times
Written on 2020-01-01 at 12:11

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text

Kathy Lockhart The PoetBay support member heart!
This is so beautiful and comforting. I want to wrap myself up in the warmth and welcoming of this cherished imagery and all of the precious ideals the poetry invokes.