How comforting to a simple life-

An orange handled paring knife

Performs its root and ritual slice

The blossom end a sacrifice

Peels back the layers – smooth like years

Producing false but salty tears

So pleasing in its symmetry

The onion is simplicity

The comfort of a simple chore

Repeated many times before.

An orange handled shovel sits

Beside wet boots as mittens drip

On registers steam hisses as

The porch light favors chiseled paths

The paper boy will trudge to bring

The evening news – a sovereign thing

When night time comes at four o’clock

And coffee’s in a turquoise up.