The two of us alone —
waiting together for family arrivals;
mid afternoon, fireplace ablaze,
Jane Austin's memoir
across my lap, her cameo
embossed black against brown,
awaits alike for attention
to gaze upon its lines, and
juxtaposed against Boney M
Christmas carols on the stereo
serenading us from above the hearth.
The doorbell will ring shortly
with the first of family,
the quiet will end and Jane
will retire for another day,
and I, and you, will thrill to the commotion.
The warmth among and between our kin
A running stream through this winter,
a lasting legacy that tells us
- we did well.
~gtk
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Refugees of Reason
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