It is a small victory
to get out of the house
in the evening.
Between feeding ourselves,
washing ourselves,
putting ourselves to bed,
and putting all the shadow
tasks to rest, it is a perhaps
a small victory also
to remain in the house
in the evening.
Some days
I would like to be, say,
a horsewoman on the range.
A person at sea
in her own fields.
I would also appreciate
those exotic people
being more dependable
for me. More
like me.
Not Just For hipsters.
Or the French.
For the first time,
I feel the urge
to stop for a coffee
before work,
linger over a pastry
on a wooden stool
as the sun comes in.
I don’t drink coffee.
It still sounds like warm,
simple comfort. I am
walking a mile through
our small city, and
I think I am
finally contented.
I like it better out
on the porch
in the blue lonesome
Common Poem 