The Kitchen Door
When we arrived at the cabin, two Fridays back,
The first thing I did, after unlocking the kitchen door,
Was to lift the clock, above the stove, off its wall hook,
And stop its distracting ticktock-ticktock-ticktocking.
At once, everything was pleasant, peaceful . . . perfect.
The wide silence it left, in its robust inertia, was humanizing.
That was ten days of timeless serenity ago.
Now, this cerulean-blue Monday a.m.,
With the lake, in our backyard, as smooth as a skating rink,
The two of us gratified sojourners reluctantly packed up,
For our trip from this hospitable abode, to St. Louis,
I replace the battery I disengaged from the indefatigable clock,
Which I rehang, on its hook, and, locking the kitchen door,
Stop the distracting ticktock-ticktock-ticktocking.
06/25/12 - (1)
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