Poem: Peanuts on the Floor

Peanuts on the Floor

There are peanuts on the floor,
their white carcasses like dead maggots
against the rich red hues
of the oriental rug.

Boxes gape open,
half emptied, half full,
no order, yet
full of promise,

treasure chests,
riches of a lifetime,
carried here, and now,
slowly, lovingly

uppacked.
The room is a mess, yes,
and will be, yet this chaos
is progress,

which all too often,
gets messier
before it gets better.

===========

My daughter, who has been with me since June, recently moved all her things from Virginia to my home in Vermont. The picture is of what used to be my dining room, as she unpacks them and sorts everything out. She's a delight, and so concerned that the room is a mess, but no one knows more than I do that life often has to get messy before it falls into place. So I look at the mess... and smile.

You can click on the picture for a larger version.

Tom