Reflected sunlight
fills the old study cluttered
with memorials—
a widow’s husband’s
books, two Norman Rockwell prints,
statue of two dogs.
Bleached white lace curtains
break the outside world into
patterns of small forms.
Pull the curtain back
and the forms come together—
houses, green backyard,
and a pile of toys
forgotten in a corner,
waiting for summer.
Roy Herndon Smith
dust 