Late winter:
for Roger’s
fiftieth
birthday I
bought two books,
put them on
the kitchen
table. There

they sat, next
to the bills
waiting to
be paid, the
candlesticks,
the tea pot,
and Carol’s
laptop. There

they still sit.
The sun is
higher, the
trees across
the street have
leaves, the bills
have mostly
been paid. The

days flow past
every one
demanding
attention:
eat, sleep, shit,
wash dishes,
water the
garden, and

early spring:
the two books
are still on
the kitchen
table, next to
the tea pot,
and the sun-
light, and us.

for Roger’s birthday, since we didn’t give him the books

One thought on “ ”

  1. I am touched and gratified. I’ve never had someone write a poem for me. Well that’s not true, but not about my delayed birthday present. I’m glad to say that Dan took me to breakfast last week and gave me these two wonderful books. Thank you, Dan! Chicago and New Bedford as subjects: two of my formative and former cities. Sorry to take away for the still life on the table, though.

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