Sunday, December 30, 2012

Another year draws to a close, and I sit here, drinking the same coffee, at the same old Formica table, in the same small red house, in the same clearing, in the same forest, under the same snowfall, avoiding the same chores. Something must change. Clearly something has already changed. One son is gone; the other is large. The dog's eyes have become cloudy, and my hair has become grayer. I consider a future in which I might possess the only key to a door. I consider waking up in a two-room flat at the top of a windy hill. I consider dinner for two, night after night; dinner for one, night after night. I consider never canning another tomato again. Which joke, which embrace, will be the last?

1 comment:

Eusebia Philotes said...

Amazing things blogs are. Like looking through peepholes at other's self-reflections. Most of us are not so dissimilar in our hopes and thoughts. Perhaps that is what poetry expresses, the common-ness of ordinary lives being communicated in extraordinary language. Well, I just stumbled upon your blog. Glad I did. Hello and Happy New Year.