Thursday, December 6, 2007

Please Stay Home

(c) 1997 Elizabeth Southwood

//please stay home

Please Stay Home

I’m staying home today. Won’t you?
I’ve been a working robot
for so long. I want to drink my coffee,
eat hot croissants with jam,
with you, leisurely....before the holidays
usurp autumn, turn it into Hallowe’en,
Thanksgiving, Christmas shopping.
Our house, pleasant as a B&B,
calls to me, this time of year,
to stay right here.
When we got up today, I knew
I couldn’t bear to leave.
I heard the wistful
coos of doves, saw hummingbirds
drink water from a sprinkler,
dark pewter clouds
blow in from the west,
cover sunlit streaks
of silver sky,
a hint of mist.

We need a day to sit,
not spend in drudgery,
to see the beauty of the fading year
before it disappears.
Look at the blue-green
eucalyptus leaves undulating, rustling
in the breeze
pouring through the canyon.
Their pungent fragrance clothes
the tired summer dust.
Firethorn heavy with berries licks
the patio wall,
French lavender’s in rampant flower,
buckeye nuts -
glossy, dark-chocolate -
hang in pistachio-green pods.

This is all I’m going to do today:
put eucalyptus
in this Wedgwood-blue bowl
on your Grandmother’s
white crocheted tablecloth,
to look at
while we drink coffee.

Take a deep breath.
How the eucalyptus
sparks the air!

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