Empty House
I turned towards home and danced a little jig;
Receding in my view: a store of late
I’ve frequented with items small and big
to patient sit upon a shelf and wait.
I did the closing check, that one last sweep;
The walls, the closets, cabinets, all quite bare.
No history, no quilts, no cluttered shelves:
Empty rooms.
No quilts, no genealogy, no sewing, no cooking:
She’s not here.
It’s all at our house.
—————
(on emptying my mother’s apartment after she passed away)
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