Tag Archives: home

Porch Lights

Now with the river
always on my right
I’ve left my companions
for a few days
to travel on alone
this last leg
to take me home.

It is April
night is falling
and the mist is gathering
between the river bluffs.

I know I will arrive
in the dark
that I will be exhausted
that the screen door
will still stick
as it always has
that they will be sleeping
with the windows open
the eyelet curtains
softly catching against the sill
or playing cards late
at the VFW.

But that no matter
where they are
someone will have
left the porch lights on
(the lights from my childhood nights
being called in for bed)
and a slice of pie
on the counter.

That every year
I am welcomed.
That even in the bad years
(I mean the years that I was bad.)
there were porch lights
and pie.

– Kay Winter

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Trailways 4

On page 54 or so you
realize that you are also
changing your life.

Your long winter
is over.

Isabelle, the headstrong woman in the book,
strides across the cover in a turban.
She put on mens’ clothes,
worked her way as a deckhand
across the Mediterranean,
sailing to Algeria.

You are sailing north along the mighty river,
in a bus, wearing the same jeans you wore all winter.

You read on.

Isabelle’s caravan is winding at night
under the stars,
further and further into the desert.

You are going to a new home.
One you’ll make.

The cottonwoods will shimmer,
on the slope down to the lake,
the leaves dusty green on one side,
silvery on the other.

You will find a dock there
to sit at the end of,
at the close of each long day.

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OctPoWriMo Poem 17 – Fresh Air

Needing fresh air
I retrieve my parka and boots
And sneak out the pantry door
Of my aunt’s crowded house
And into the frigid January night
Counting against frostbite
I dig my mittens out of my pockets
And pull my hat down over my ears

My boots squeak against the packed snow
Someone is burning cedar
A hockey stick cracks against the ice
And I remember you, one
Christmas, skating by yourself
The sun slanting gold
Across the impromptu rink at the lake edge

Do you ever come home, too,
And long to escape again
The moment you arrive?

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