poetry by j matthew waters


the doorbell rings the cat awakens
saunters through the kitchen
past the self-feeding station

nobody’s been home
for nearly a fortnight
yet everything continues to function
lights off & on by way of automation

the refrigerator hums
the furnace kicks in
the mail delivered day after day
piling up inside the man door

winter fast approaches
some hunker down while others
go their separate ways
either temporarily or forever

november two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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