When coming home, let there be time to pause.
Don’t swap the car-keys for door-keys too soon.
Don’t exchange memories for a list of chores.
Let the ‘best of album’ play one more tune.
Before long, home will nag and make its mark;
craving the fix, demanding attention.
Just put the car in park, let the dogs bark;
float a while in a state of suspension.
Make what you can of now, sit tight, be still;
leave the seat-belt buckled, don’t do a thing
that might burst that bubble and cause a spill
of action: a boot release… a door swing…
. The estimated time of arrival
. should accommodate an end that’s idle.

© Tim Grace, 2 November 2011

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To the reader: You worked hard. You deserved a break. The lead-up was frantic. Exhausted, you began your vacation. The first few days were a blur. Eventually, time relaxed and you shifted your routine to make the most of new surroundings. The weeks away have been all too good. Refreshed, you turn for home. You arrive. The driveway is all too familiar; the same one you greet after a day of work. Exit with care… danger ahead!

To the poet: Capturing familiar happenings, as common experiences, should be easy; not so. As familiar, the items and activities in a domestic poem have assumed roles. Even the sequence of events requires a predictable story-board. It’s through mundane depictions that this sonnet finds room for curious comparisons; unexpected twists; and misappropriated phrases. A familiar background is a new window.

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