12/1/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo
This, my home,
Place for dancing and dirty dishes,
I don't want to share it
With strangers, no,
I long for a kindred spirit
Emerging from the mist
Of this renovation
To hand me one beautifully pressed
Fig leaf and the photo of a feather
Swirling in a bath.
These hours rush by
As I work for home.
Thank you, universal forces,
For the gifts of solitude, silence,
One radio station that rings clear,
And deeply rooted family.