Homecoming, Hour Five


An oak a century older than my home
peered sternly over the rooftop at me
as my steps meandered up the front pavement,
past the last sunflower not stolen by squirrels
in my dooryard garden.

I stepped through the front door
and hung my writing satchel
on a convenient nail,
inordinately pleased to be enfolded
in my space once more.

With my son’s mulberry wine in a wineglass
and cheddar cheese on a plate at my elbow,
I settled down with a new hardback
and the evening’s knitting at my feet,
content at the end of another day.*

*Use the words oak, pavement, sunflower, satchel, nail, space, wineglass, cheddar cheese, hardback, knitting.

3 thoughts on “Homecoming, Hour Five

  1. You capture summer beautifully here. Each prompt word was woven in a very natural way. Reading this three times (twice out loud), I see the poetry and structure, yet this also reads so naturally. Are you are storyteller, too?

    My question now: Is this true? Does your son make his own wine? Is your home new compared to the trees which surround it?

    For some poems like these, I sometimes “try on another’s life” by casting myself with phrases which seem most unlike my current life. At least for this particular poem this particular hour, though, I found a personal discovery arise — a disillusionment.

    1. Thanks very much for the commentary; I wasn’t expecting any yet! Yes, I also write short stories and have been hard at work on a collection for some time now. Most of this poem is true to life, which was surprising for a random collection of words. My son does brew mulberry wine, and has just begun this year’s batch from the graceful old mulberry tree in our backyard. Our home is 106 now, but the trees do predate it. I live a very quiet life, as the subject matter depicts, bit I’d say the only thing not true to myself here is the knitting–can’t do a stitch, lol, though my daughter is very good at it and is also writing in the marathon with me. I can’t say there is any disillusionment these days, more a quiet that occasionally skirts melancholy but is more or less content.

  2. Well, you capture this beautifully. I believe that “quiet” lives earned new appreciation throughout these recent years. Keep writing about yourself as well as you many other stories and verses!

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