Ann Keiffer

Everything Is New Again

Spoons, knives, and forks
gleaming like real silver
in pristine white holders.
Purple mugs, stored upside
down on the second shelf,
pleasures for eye and hand
and lips within my reach.
Just a cache of shiny baubles,
but laid out in shallow drawers,
they dazzle as in a jeweler’s case.
From the kitchen window,
white-trunked birch trees,
sparsely spangled, gold-leafed.
From the bedroom, living room,
and dining room: panoramas of
mountain tops and valleys,
groves of oaks, deer, red-tailed
hawks, and wild turkeys gawky-
walking, squawking in the street.
Nights of stars, the moon
tom-peeping in our room,
lights in far windows,
fog rising from the valley,
marooning us in solitude.
Dawn lifting the shade of day,
stealing in our bedroom,
slow-waking us with silence,
warmth, and pink-hued light.
Where will I have my tea,
where will I write,
where will I read,
where will I rest,
where will I sleep,
where will I hang my towel
and store my brush?
All that is old becomes new again
as we discover
how we will live
and who we will be
in this new house.


About Ann

I am interested in the strange beauty of brokenness, in transforming possibility in difficult times, in how we heal even when we can’t get better, in the alchemy of surrender, in the interplay of light and shadow, in the bounty of everyday wonders, in the gift of laughter…and writing about it, all and everything.

Recent Poems

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