Carol Grametbauer writes poetry in Kingston, Tennessee. She is chair of the board of directors of Tennessee Mountain Writers and had a 25-year career in public relations at the Department of Energy facilities in Oak Ridge. Her poems have appeared in Maypop, Appalachian Heritage, and Remember September: Prompted Poetry. Carol is a colored pencil artist; her art and poetry are frequently based on nature themes.
He's usually not this late: already
the winter light begins to falter;
in the space between one minute and the next
the room grows dim. Outside the window,
as the iron-blue light begins to falter,
wrens and sparrows still their evening calls.
The still front room grows dim. Outside the window,
cardinals murmur in the chill of dusk.
Wrens, sparrows still their evening calls. She paces
on the hearth rug, listens for his car;
hears only cardinals murmuring in the dusk.
She lights the dry logs stacked in the grate,
paces on the hearth rug, listens for his car.
Freezing rain taps at the windowpane.
Orange flames flicker over logs laid in the grate,
her defense against the coming cold.
Freezing rain sheets down the darkened windowpane.
Between one minute and the next, she
gathers her defenses against the coming
cold. He's usually not this late.
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