Certain of nothing now
but smiling
and the pup, sighing tired
sighs in my lap.
Possibility
of the day’s last minutes
growing limp like wilted
radish greens.
What I could start
and not finish
haunts me.
Dinner was invented,
destroyed, and the dishes
speak of a modern, though
pointless porcelain sculpture.
And isn’t that the point?
Dinner?
Take what’s whole,
divide into pieces,
put back together with grace.
If only it were
Groundhog Day.
fog up the windows 
Love this. And that’s a really great looking table too. I want to be there. [smile] ~ Bill
Thanks, Bill. 🙂