From
My Old Room
Jennifer
Dix
Coffee
cups clink against saucers
Silverware rings against plates
My parents eating a morning meal
Of buttermilk biscuits and sausage gravy
Sitting at the trestle table my father built
Murmurs
of conversation, broken words
Drift up the stairs to my pillowed ears
"grown woman," "cold front," "garden"
Kitchen cabinets and drawers bang shut
The wood stove rattles with added fuel
The
rocking chair's lulling rhythm
Sounds of Bill Monroe, the Irish Tenors
Jim Croce, Garrison Keillor float upward
Mother's soft laughter at his punch line
All favorite sounds of my visits home
***
Jennifer
Dix resides in Springfield, Tennessee, with her husband and
two cats. She has a BBA from Austin Peay State University and
is currently employed in the field of market research to support
her writing habit. She has been published in the House Organ,
a
publication of Vanderbilt Medical Center and in local publications
in her home county. Her essay, "Small Town Reverie,"
and her poem, "Vanilla," were published in the book
Muscadine Lines: A Southern Anthology.
©
Jennifer Dix