Flanked by maples, oaks and pines

My house of memories

Stands poised in anecdotal reflection.

 

Guests come, and gone,

Who sat upon the faux red leather chairs

Surrounding the square wood table.

 

Laughter, tears,

Heated conversations –

Games of chance and fortune,

Skill, and a dash of luck.

 

Visitors remarking at the steep drive,

“What do you do when the weather’s bad?”

As if none of the inhabitants exit

When winter knocks on the door.

 

Hummingbirds flit and dance about the feeder

Hung from the back deck Costco patio lights.

One sovereign ruling the perch

Her regal frame resting on the line;

Yes, hummingbirds pause.

 

The dog reclines, head on my lap

In the upstairs room,

Mythic dreams unfolding

From our post morning stroll.

 

Harmony fills this space –

The quiet chirp of the resident cockatiel

Synchronized with the hum of history,

Wafting through the heating vents.

 

This poem was prompted by Billy Collins, “Where I Live.”