In Praise of Small Spaces
A simple chair
beside potted geraniums,
a rustic bench near an earthen pond,
flower boxes along sills of open windows
in the breeze
and hanging baskets above the porches
of huddled homes.
Court-yards tricked out with care and charm,
terrace houses glowing in the autumn sun
or hunkered down on days of rain
where in small rooms love begins again.
A day still and sharp with cold,
sun flickering through maple leaves
in a sky of winter blue.
Birds chime and squawk
their turmoil in the trees,
and there’s these flowers from
the Sunday market stall
that I bring home for you.
And in the evening,
as the stained-glass light
finds fallen swirls of leaves,
I hear hushed homes talking
mere inches from the street,
the hungry chirp of children
and their parents’ tired tones
preparing dinner as they must
but thinking of that space and time
when the children are asleep.