View from the Alcove


Sly as a cat, he sits in the alcove,
     Watching the crowd at the station pass by.
Back at his flat, there's a stew on the stove
     Garnished with parsley and basil thereby.
What does he do with his days, you will ask,
     How does he fill up the hours alone?
He wisely repeats a previous task,
     Much as a dog will re-bury a bone.
Lately he has taken to observing
     Arrivals and departures by the score;
He credits these commuters with preserving
     The fundamental stillness at his core.
What stimulus his private life may lack
Shall one day by the gods be given back.



©2016 Michael Fraley




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