Even Housework Inspires…

I was sweeping the kitchen floor this afternoon, when I realized that the only ones tracking in sand and dropping crumbs these days are my husband and I. This reminds me of a poem I wrote several years ago:

Sweeping Changes

Her broom runs over
a bit of food stuck to the floor
and leaves it behind.

When her children were small,
she’d drag the kitchen chairs
into the parlor to build
a playground with couch cushions
to occupy them
while she washed the floor.

Now, she considers fewer chairs
in a smaller kitchen
in a lesser house.

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