Enough light to see the path; enough courage to take the step; enough sense to enjoy the walk; enough company to share the time.

Thursday, March 1, 2012

Housewarming


The last box is in.
You, overworked for weeks now,
Can feel little beyond exhaustion and relief.

And then, wouldn't you know it?
Seems like a hundred call or stop by;
Many of them bring a friend,
And most only stay for a moment;
It's hard to keep track.
One group got together
And made a silly music video for you, just for fun,
So you have to order in hors d’œuvres and screen it;
They hoot and blast air horns when someone misbehaves.
Should anyone be surprised you’re not serving popcorn?
What a mess they'd make.

And there are gifts.
Here is something beautiful, small:
A jar of fig jam.
It is wrapped in green tissue
And the fingerprints of an artist’s devoted effort.
Not from the easiest person; it is a surprise.

And here: a big box
Full of laughter and encouragement wrapped in iridescent bubbles,
Delivered with a smile by the FedEx guy.
And here: a large envelope neatly stuffed with shared opinions;
Essays on patriotism, politics, and picture shows—
You could frame some of them, they’re that good.
And here, here, and here: Pineapples,
Symbols of welcome and hospitality.
Armagnac? That's a bit of good timing…

Despite the slight but constant and nagging sensation 
That this is not quite finished,
Finally, you set on Sinatra, put your feet up, and let out a deep breath…

Oh—this was on the floor of the entry.
Someone peered through the letter-slot briefly
(But never knocked)
Before poking a crumpled scrap through.
Written on the back of a cinema receipt
Smelling faintly of roses and sandalwood,
The letters, crooked and slightly smudged, say only:

“Bless this place.”



for T.