Archive 06/25/12 - (1)

 

   

The Kitchen Door                                              

 

When we arrived at the cabin, two Fridays back,

The first thing I did, after unlocking the kitchen door,

Was to lift the clock, above the stove, off its wall hook,

And stop its distracting ticktock-ticktock-ticktocking.

At once, everything was pleasant, peaceful . . . perfect.

The wide silence it left, in its robust inertia, was humanizing.                                             

That was ten days of timeless serenity ago.

 

Now, this cerulean-blue Monday a.m.,

With the lake, in our backyard, as smooth as a skating rink,

The two of us gratified sojourners reluctantly packed up,

For our trip from this hospitable abode, to St. Louis,

I replace the battery I disengaged from the indefatigable clock,

Which I rehang, on its hook, and, locking the kitchen door,

Stop the distracting ticktock-ticktock-ticktocking.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                     

06/25/12 - (1)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 
 
 
 
       

 

 

 
   
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