Late afternoon in the valley, the trees
wear halos. Then twilight steals the sun,
kitchen lights blink on like stars,
and coming home is a sigh
and the smile of someone waiting.
Your day is told in half sentences
and nods and questions answered —
nothing new, but new enough to tell again.
After supper, after gin rummy and pages
turning and the rhythmic click of a sweater
growing row by row, bed greets you
like a childhood friend, and sleep
keeps company with the blue black sky
and the owl’s whispered flight.
– Sarah Russell
First published by Your Daily Poem
Sarah Russell Poetry 
With your words you weave a scene of domestic contentment. Lovely.
LikeLike
Thank you. I spent a long time finding this kind of peace.
LikeLike
this is so calming and relaxing, following the comforting rituals of a day
LikeLike
Thanks, Beth. I think it’s those rituals that we don’t know are rituals that organize our world.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I so agree
LikeLiked by 1 person
I love the quiet image of home… the silent beauty, the company and telling of stories, the evening before just going to bed.
LikeLike
Thanks, Bjorn. I love those evenings, too.
LikeLike
A very sweet poem, it seems an ideal, someone coming home to their “dog.” Always glad to see them.
LikeLike
Thanks, Annell.
LikeLike
This is so lovely. I feel that way, too, about the comfort of home…..a refuge.
LikeLike
Thanks, Sherry. Wish it could be this way for everyone.
LikeLike
Beautiful! This is home as it should be, filled with warmth and welcoming and peace!
LikeLike
I’m afraid many don’t have a home like that, but it’s what I finally found after many years.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Loved so much.
LikeLike
Thanks a lot, Vicki.
LikeLike
A lot happens in a day — the world rises and falls everywhere and for all — yet homecomings are ever the most personal, private and intimate of motions, crossing an immense threshold between Out There and Home. This is woven so dearly of that inward fabric, loved it as much as I love coming home from work. Best is when there are two parties who agree.
LikeLike
Yes, indeed that’s true, Brendan. And as you say, it’s a threshold of public and private lives.
LikeLike
Very good
LikeLike
Thanks for stopping by, Julian.
LikeLike
This is so beautifully drawn … I am there. My favorite line: ‘bed greets you
like a childhood friend’. Lovely writing, Sarah.
LikeLike
Thanks a lot, Wendy.
LikeLike
Beautiful, Sarah!
LikeLike
Thanks so much!
LikeLike
“and sleep keeps company with the blue black sky
and the owl’s whispered flight”.. this is so beautiful! ❤❤
LikeLike
Thanks, Sanaa. Those lines just happened. I love it when the poem helps me write it!
LikeLiked by 1 person
I feel content and right at home. Lovely.
LikeLike
Thanks, Gallivanta!
LikeLiked by 1 person
I do so love your lovely warm and comforting words Sarah – they make me feel snug and safe.
“…and the rhythmic click of a sweater
growing row by row” – lovely lovely lovely!
Anna :o]
LikeLike
Thanks, Anna. That comes directly from my own evenings at home. I’m always knitting something.
LikeLike
Oh, that is just gorgeous! A celebration of the ‘ordinary’ things which are so often the best of life.
LikeLike
Thank you, Rosemary. I think we forget to honor the “everyday” unless it isn’t there anymore.
LikeLike
Please follow my upgraded blog http://dodiesfluidflorals.com. I won’t be posting in my free site any longer. Thanks 🧡
LikeLike
I just “followed.” Thanks for dropping by.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks 😍I’ll be back
LikeLiked by 1 person
The scene you write of takes me back to my time of youth with my grandmother. Time without electronics to s easily steal our skill and tallent
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks, Dodie. I wonder sometimes what this surge of technology will yield for our grandkids’ generation — besides early arthritis in the neck…
LikeLike
What a lovely poem; the words create a picture so clearly – really like it. Thank you.
LikeLike
Thanks so much, Liz.
LikeLike