Home from the Pub
and see old friends and all,
but it’s nicer for me to smell
the wet earth and hear the
cacophony of crickets from
my own back yard as I
emerge from the car.
My pets greet me as if they know
I prefer to be here with them
at almost any given time.
The house settles beneath
my feet as I walk toward
my husband’s snoring.
I slowly pull and push drawers,
open and close several doors,
doing my nighttime rituals
before sighing gratefully into bed.
It’s okay if you think these lovely
quiet things are boring,
I’m too content to care.