• remnants

    by  • November 22, 2013 • community, durham, family, food, home, poetry • 4 Comments

    it is the morning
    of the next day —
    I have come down-
    stairs to the kitchen
    to make coffee . . .
    the room still
    smells of pork chops
    and laughter;
    the empty glasses —
    both wine and water —
    stand like a skyline
    on the old farm table
    that soaked it all in . . .
    we gathered for
    no other reason
    than to gather,
    made a memory
    for the sake of
    remembering,
    which is what I’m
    doing as I sit alone
    with my coffee
    and the skyline
    and our little grey
    dog sniffs the floor
    looking for leftovers.

    About

    Blogging since December 2005

    http://donteatalone.com

    4 Responses to remnants

    1. Judith Woelke
      November 22, 2013 at 4:20 pm

      These are my favorite types of evenings. I rarely have or attend them anymore-thank you for reminding me of past good times with good friends.

    2. November 22, 2013 at 6:07 pm

      <3

    3. November 22, 2013 at 6:28 pm

      Some of my happiest moments are exactly so…you captured our life! One of us does fix up the coffee pot after loading the dishwasher, but the glasses and sometimes extras are better tackled in the light of day. We often do big old thick chops and offer a choice of tapenade or BBQ sauce to go on top.

    4. Tim Tyson
      December 6, 2013 at 2:38 am

      This is as good in print as it was when you read it to me, Milton. I love the skyline metaphor and, even better, you and the dog looking for leftovers. I hope you both found some. Let’s get out there on the road soon. Light out for the territory near home.

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