the glassed-in porch
My grandfather lived in a big white farmhouse. It had rooms and rooms, but the focus of life was the kitchen. On rainy days, we could play there quietly.
Sometimes we were allowed to spend the afternoon in the glassed-in porch just off the kitchen. It was whitewashed, and had filmy white curtains and wide window ledges.
On those ledges was a fastinating collection of knick-knacks and trinkets. Examining these items was very entertaining although we were not really allowed to touch anything.
I have tried to emulate this magical jumble of artifacts in my own home, but some spaces are impossible to duplicate.
a collection on a window ledge
glassed-in porch in rain
~
rainy day glassed-in porch
tall windows and white step
down from the kitchen
to linoleum wicker table a cot
~
never-used porch door
at the windows, white ledges
keepsakes and trinkets
‘look but don’t touch’
~
big clock in the kitchen ticks
red-eared slider frantic against
the frosted sides of his bowl
rain taps at the window
~
irresistible urge to give the turtle
respite, lift the curtain to admire
the rain, lift the velvet lid
of the purple box, Port Maitland
~
iron pyrite safe inside, encourage
dippy bird to tip and drink
from the glass of water, blue tulips
and a chip in its rim
~
nudge the red and yellow-flocked
parrot above the cot, swing him
on his metal perch, rearrange ceramic chicks
to peck at whitewashed window ledge
~
focus rose bowl ruby light
on china pig, puzzle out flowers
and holes on his back, turn the bud vase over
‘where is Occupied Japan?’
~
pour buttons from the jar, sort
and match Meteghan sea glass, marbles
in a coffee can, take a ship with scallop shells
for sails along the sill
~
trace paths of hesitant rain
droplets on glass
~
© Jane Tims 2011
nichepoetryandprose 
Another great poem Jane but it somehow leaves me feeling anxious … too much stuff to contend with 🙂
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JD
September 3, 2011 at 8:22 pm
You may be right. Part of being a poet is knowing how to edit and let go of some of the images. Even though they may be dear to me, less is often more… Jane
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jane tims
September 4, 2011 at 7:57 am