by Kay Boulware-Miller
(Flemington, NJ 08822 USA)

(The Call to an Empty Nest)

The sky grays and her vision dims
The air chills as she spots a fire log at the door’s entrance
The cat cries for the sake of crying, or perhaps because he is hungry
It is the time of day that she loves best

The mail is collected and read
The clothes are laundered and put away
The early evening radio program has begun
It is the time of day that she loves best

The floors are swept
The drapes are drawn
The savory scent of simmering soup beckons her for tasting
It is the time of day that she loves best

Muted, lonely shadows await the ring of the telephone
The faithful, sweet ring from across the waters that always comes in good time
It will be the afternoon call to an empty nest
The time of the day that she loves best.

Kay Boulware-Miller
Flemington, New Jersey 08822

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