'Maybe the world is worn...' Photo: Viktor Forgacs / Unsplash.
‘Small Things’
'Small Things' by Dana Littlepage Smith
I am not sure what they are using.
Small things to trick
the morning into night?
Or to trick the night
into morning?
They’ve bedded down,
by our oak door.
I sit on my side,
my back to their backs.
We share the same sweat
and steam, yet I am in
warmth and they outside
in our January cold porch
with one bald light bulb
webbed by spiders
by which to guide the needle.
No one cries as they stuff
their bloodied tissues
behind our pots of ivy.
If I bring them cups of tea
do I play with their misery?
Two women in good duffel
coats with long dark braids
stand by like guardians.
One bows her head to me
slightly, the other winks.
Maybe the world is worn
day long with these
unsung but not un-noted blessings.
