Silver Lakes
We wake in the morning pulled to consciousness by
The sun peeking through the window
It quietly urges us out of bed
My feet slide out onto the cold wooden floor
The dogs rise from slumber and shake off their sleep
They follow me into the next room looking for breakfast
As I put on the coffee, he starts the wood-burning stove
Little is said or needs to be said
We know what has to be done
The chores are divided up by traditional gender roles
I stay in to pack up the food and wash the dishes
He goes out side to chop wood for the fire
The dogs follow him
Kate stays on the porch
Abbey is at his heels
I watch out the little kitchen window
As he methodically chops wood
Abbey grabs a stick, a piece of bark
And then a log when his back is turned
My laughter interrupts the silence
With sing song melody
In that moment while watching my husband
I forget what may not be and take delight in what is
August 2004
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