Living Tree Poetry

Did you come home today?
Did it feel like this?

Warmth, heat
in the cold,
sweet cool on your feet in the sun.

Did it rise up
to meet you on the walk,
did it open its door?

Yellow,
as the pansies in their pot,
or the bulbs in a jar.

And did it smell
like coffee,
or dinner when you’re famished.

Did the sofa
take all your weight,
circle you in fabric,

in cushions,
the throw you’ve kept
for sentiment,

which the cat pulls at
purrs,
makes its own.

And is the door open
to the twilight birdsong,
the last lingering light’s rays.

Does it feel like home,
do you draw the curtains
to a haven, kept, nurtured.

And if not,
what can you do?

Ana Lisa de Jong
Living Tree Poetry
September 2020