Sun Through Window
Betsy Jones
view from my back porch
view from my kitchen window
window that frames green grass and tall pines
window that captures the remaining blooms of camellias, lilies, and azalea
azalea blossoms dried like deflated balloons
azalea blossoms in a makeship vase, a green cup
cup caked with flour and sourdough starter
cup in the sink, on the counter, by the bed
bed unmade (nothing new)
bed dark and cool, calling me to nap
nap on the couch (normally reserved for weekends or holidays)
nap denied (zoom meetings and google hangout classes)
classes for homebound students: misplaced modifiers, author’s purpose
classes for this amatuer breadmaker and misplaced teacher
teacher-dreams of unfinished lessons and unruly students
teacher without a classroom (just a dining room table)
table set with nice dishes, repurposed for online instruction
table strewn with notebooks and to-do lists
lists of student essays to read
lists of house projects and cleaning priorities
priorities reframed, units and standards re-aligned
priorities reordered, time no longer measured in semesters or periods
periods of calm and peace and gratefulness
periods of worry and anxiety and panic
panic-baking: pear and goat cheese galette, tahini chocolate chip cookies, yogurt flat bread
panic-cooking: shepherd’s pie, spinach pesto lasagna, chicken enchiladas with green sauce
sauce pans stacked high, cheese crusted on plates
sauce simmering on the stove, garlic and onions season the house
house-bound, relishing the long hours reading a book or sewing a blanket
house warming in the afternoon sun
sun casts shadows across the lawn, squirrels chitter in the trees
sun sets behind the neighbor’s house, a pink glow
glow of porch lights line the street
trees stand guard in the night