If you know me well, you’re probably surprised that I’m not using this blog as a venue to push poetry onto unsuspecting readers. Well, that’s because I want to attract visitors, and frankly, the anti-poetry comments from (oh, you know who you are) might drive said visitors away.
That said, I’m taking a chance today and posting this, my favorite William Stafford poem, in honor of friends who’ve just had a baby. I love this poem – it makes me feel safe and warm and content, with thoughts of firelight and quilts.
I hope the beautiful new baby girl always experiences such joy.
At Our House
Home late, one lamp turned low,
crumpled pillow on the couch,
wet dishes in the sink (late snack),
in every child's room the checked,
slow, sure breath--
Suddenly in this doorway where I stand
in this house I see this place again,
this time the night as quiet, the house
as well secured, all breath but mine borne
gently on the air--
And where I stand, no one.