In the kitchen

Jane Dougherty Writes

In the kitchen

In the kitchen, music fills the room
from wall to wall.
Outside dusk deepens;
first owls call.

From wall to wall,
echoes of a farewell, back and forth,
until each shining spoon
is full of sadness.

Outside the dusk deepens,
and silence settles like a pall,
a coat of dust, mouse-patterned,
while fox questions from beneath the hedge,

first owls call,
and in the kitchen the music plays
to an empty room,
and I put away the shining spoons.

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