23 Nov 2015 – Home

What seems like silence
is a passing private plane,
an old dish washer,
singing lessons sung online,
a soft recliner
squeeking as I shift my weight,
the quater-hour
chimed out from the mantel clock,
and my own heartbeat
in a home away from home –
a dancing dewdrop
naming home the next green stalk
that grants me welcome.