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MY PLACE

This is my place.
These are the things that have me
keeping them.
It’s almost time to dust
a geisha’s case,
fine furniture
(we never bought it, just inherited)
requiring reverent touch,

the windowsill
over our backyard and other yards,
where trees part a window
to the center of city and state
Capitol.
(To robins and wrens,
these house are all smaller than trees,
insignificant in forest.)
Umbilici tie us
to Wisconsin Power and Light.

What would happen if I cut cords
and kept the draperies closed?
The robins and the wrens
would never know.

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