The Innisfree Poetry Journal

www.innisfreepoetry.org

by Janice D. Soderling

COMPACT LIVING AND OTHER HABITS

I slide from dreams to morning,
from the past to a smaller room.
My children are still sleeping
as they slept years ago.

Small puffs of breath push softly
onto white pillow slips. Bright
sunlight skews on early disarray:
toys, schoolbooks,
a broken red crayon.

The kitchen, like me, expectant
of yawns, jostling, laughter.
The scrape of chairs. Same old jabbering.

Familiar smells of coffee, bacon, toast.
Milk splashing into tall glasses.
Such busyness, such bustling.

One suspended moment
just before I wake,
I am needed, necessary,
my mind caught in the grasp
of memory's small hands.


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