The kitchen window is streaked and spotted
on the outside from months-gone
summer rains.
The air has since turned frigid;
small birds flit & dance on the barren bush
just beyond the sill.
Inside, I stand resting
in the sun that streams through
just above the old porcelain sink.
The dishes are finished
and last wisps of steam rise;
the children are occupied with holiday gifts
as I forget for a moment
everything isn’t all right.
—
Another notebook fragment from December finally coalesces.
bussokuseki 
For some reason your writing brought to mind these words which felt as though the hand of a bodhisattva touched my heart and wakened a sense of peace.
Wind
No knowing their destiny
Petals fall
~M Leonard
It’s a wonderful piece, Brenda, thank you for sharing it. What a wonderful giving over to what may be…
Be well~
‘Inside, I stand resting
in the sun that streams through
just above the old porcelain sink.
The dishes there are finished’
Oh, I love this bit. Standing for that one moment at the empty sink, after mopping off the water from around the sink and looking at a dish drainer stacked with clean dishes is so restful! That moment is, before you go on to the next chore. I can’t believe you got hold of that one moment and created poetry – wow!
The contrasts in this poem between warmth and cold, comfort and apprehension, create an exquisite tension.
Thank you, Mary Ann, for saying so. I wasn’t so much aware of the tension when I began to write it – yet the truth always seems to emerge given the space… Be well~
and yet the ‘… streaked and spotted’ window ‘… on the outside’ is also just fine because that’s the way it is?
It certainly could not have been otherwise…
Indeed, though it was not the closing thought that I anticipated. “…the last wisps of steam rise….” I saw that! Wonderful imagery.
Thank you, Eric. It is such a familiar presence to me… Be well~
A beautiful poem showing the grace of immediacy and small things….there’s so much here to like, for reflection….I particularly like the first stanza setting the scene
Thank you. Windows, and looking through them, always seem to frame the moment for me… Be well~