Evening Poem, January, 2017

At dusk the house is quiet

And the scent of spices sautéing wafts

I am tired from the day’s twenty-mile ride

But in a good way, a relaxed way

We’ll find an old movie

Maybe one we’ve watched twenty times before

We’ll look aside at each other

And mouth or even say aloud the great lines when they come.

copyright 2017

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