The Letter From Home

The dogs barked, the dogs scratched, the dogs got wet, the

dogs shook, the dogs circled, the dogs slept, the dogs ate,

the dogs barked; the rain fell down, the leaves fell down, the

eggs fell down and cracked on the floor; the dust settled,

the wood floors were scratched, the cabinets sat without

doors, the trim without paint, the stuff piled up; I loaded the

dishwasher, I unloaded the dishwasher, I raked the leaves,

I did the laundry, I took out the garbage, I took out the

recycling, I took out the yard waste. There was a bed, it was

soft, there was a blanket, it was warm, there were dreams,

they were good. The corn grew, the eggplant grew, the

tomatoes grew, the lettuce grew, the strawberries grew, the

blackberries grew; the tea kettle screamed, the computer

keys clicked, the radio roared, the TV spoke. “Will they ever

come home?” “Can’t I take a break?” “How do others keep

their house clean?” “Will I remember this day in fifty years?”

The sweet tea slipped down my throat, the brownies melted

in my mouth. My mother cooked, the apple tree bloomed, the

lilac bloomed, the mimosa bloomed, I bloomed.

Copyright Credit: Poem copyright ©2009 by Seattle Arts & Lectures. Reprinted from Wake Up In Brightness: Poetry & Prose by Students 2008-2009, Writers in the Schools, 2009, by permission of Seattle Arts & Lectures.