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~ ~ ~
The scruffy ancient cat shifts upon the sill
watching darkness crawl in the field beyond
the farmhouse windows lined with steam
behind the curtain lace against an invisible sky.

Piquant spicy scents curl steaming and hearty
from the wood-stove’s back-burnered dutch oven
as she lights the oil lamp sitting on the red tablecloth;
the flickering crackling fireplace sings while sparks fly.

Her lost child’s absence is a silent presence;
sweetness once embodied; never possible to deny.
And as she works to fill her loved ones' needs,
no one hears her sorrowed inner sigh.

Moving quietly around the table, she places bowls
and spoons beside all but one gingham covered chair,
as across the peaceful meadows tiptoes mist
with chilled bitter winter creeping nigh.
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