Tuesday, November 14, 2006

the kitchen window



just a pane separates
the cold November wind
from the warm kitchen

the windowsill is filled
with purple blooms of African violets,
pill bottles lined up in a row,
souvenir glass from a beach vacation,
and framed with homemade curtains

the air is full
of the aroma of coffee
and country music on the radio…

memories of my grandparents' kitchen
or maybe that of my parents...
possibly my own,
it all blends together
through generations


7 comments:

doubleknot said...

You write such a lovely picture. I am sitting here chilled with it only 57% I know it is colder up there already.

bluemountainmama said...

i love kitchen windows. it's funny- i actually took a picture of mine a couple of weeks ago and was planning on writing a post about it. mine was going to be more about the light that filters in. but i too feel the connection to my mom when i'm in the kitchen cooking with bluegrass or classical music playing and candles lit. that is what i woke up to many a morning as a child.

colleen said...

Something about windows... They are like the eyes of a house separating two worlds.

Motherkitty said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
Motherkitty said...

Miss Susan, you are the next poet laureate of our generation. I love the way you allow us to see through your eyes and taste/smell/hear all that is around you. Thanks for bringing us into your kitchen this fine, cool morning. Get out some more cups so we can share a cuppa coffee with y'all.

Seeing Anew said...

What a lovely poem, Susan! I love the image of a single pane of glass separating us from the cold of November. You are really the poet of Homelife -- thank you for helping us all remember the simple comforts of home. You might like another poem about November by Thomas Hood!

Abandoned in Pasadena said...

Susan you have such a way with words.