Produced by Dennis Camire

This week’s poem is by John Reinhart of Brunswick.

 

At Home

By John Reinhart

 

Swallows flit under the eaves, carrying grass and twigs, building

their home, well-insulated and protected, swooping over Akers Pond

for food, which wings itself numerous and nutritious.

 

Boomerangs flung with precision, they arc out over the water,

flight paths mirrored in rainbows, treasures promised each, the bounty

of summer, while I draw plans for autumn, noting the gaps

 

in need of insulation. We haven’t bought the house yet,

still preparing to gather the supplies, settling under the eaves

of a small town, three blocks from a grocery store and library.

 

What work to go under debt ten times what my salary

will pay in a year, a contractual debt to mimic the real debt

we owe to this house, stewards to its 100-year-old beams,

 

to the men who dug its foundation, the children born

under its eaves. Tribute, honor as we add our own touches,

a little wild west to the formal dining room.

 

With a bird house in the yard, some small gesture

that a greater power might provide, provide and let go,

leaving us to improvise a little, a trust that goes both directions.

 

Dennis Camire can be reached at [email protected]


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