"Familiar"

November 1, 2018; Intense Imagery

Small, southern towns have a certain air,

A nostalgia that settles deep in your bones.

Maybe it’s the comfort and familiarity of them

That makes a visit feel like going home.

The houses are cozy but old, so

The floorboards creak and whine.

And if you wake up early enough, you can

watch the deer creep back through the treeline

Mothers crowd the kitchen,

Shoo squealing children away.

The smell of fresh biscuits and chicken

and dumplings wafts through the doorway

There’s always a stray cat at these houses,

Sometimes a nuisance, but often a pet.

It’s curled up in your lap on the porch,

Undisturbed by the faint scent of a cigarette.

The stars burn brighter in the country,

Since there’s nothing there to outshine them.

We’re curled up together in the dewy grass,

Listening to the cicadas buzz and hum.