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)