Sue:
This is a powerful scene that took form for me as I read it.  All the senses
drawn into it. Family poems...I could write a few poems about "scenes"
myself.  Thank you for the idea.  I'm not sure why I don't do more of that,
as my family album is on reel-to-reel in my mind quite often of late.  Thank
you for the inspiration.  Great poem.
Terrie

> Around the Table
>
> Where the house stood,
> trees have come back
> one by one, maples, elms.
> Sweet is the shade of memory.
> Shades walk there now,
> in shapes of spirits that come
> when evening returns.
> Hear the pat pat of a rocking chair,
> see my grandfather's brogans
> tapping the floor,
> his hand cupped over the finial
> at the top of his chair.
> Far in the back Grandma rattles pans,
> warming supper, heating the oven,
> despite summer heat, the stifling kitchen.
>
> The icebox door slams.
> Over the sink a triangular mirror
> just where  it has always been,
> blurred and chipped, cheap.
> Cretonne on the sofa, the fireplace painted red,
> a radio from a bedroom playing jazz. And Mother
> adjusting her dress over slim hips;
> pelisse and chenille cover the beds.
> I am wearing a playsuit, sandals,
> and a satin bow, reading the comics
> from a paper that says "Roosevelt Dead."
> Grandma calls, "Supper."
> while night beats against the screens,
> and evening breathes,
> sliding with fog over the mountain.
>
> Light is tallow yellow, the color
> of the oil cloth on the table.
> Wartime steak, pounded to a pulp,
> is still tough to chew, though flavorful.
> Gravy is rich as laughter, light as the biscuits
> that seem to float in air.  We are all there.
> Daddy Reed slightly drunk,
> Aunt Effie mad at someone,
> Grandma's head bent in prayer--
> now all are gone: those bright hours.
> I pour sorghum syrup, play with my fork, draw
> in my mind a circle of light against the dark.
>
> Sue Scalf
> http://www.members.aol.com/poetscalf