Museum Hill

Do you remember

The night

We drove up Museum

Hill

To gaze into the night

Sky

Crowded with stars

An overwhelmed feeling

Of absolute awe

In our hearts

Starlight still so much

Brighter

Than light from the city

Below

City lights that would

Multiply

In years still to come

Dimming starry brilliance

From the night sky

 

Museum Hill

The Museum of Indian Arts

And Culture

The Lab of Anthropology

The Folk Art Museum

As tho asleep

Their doors locked

The silence of night

Wrapped around them

We know them well

Each with its own

Unique reason for

Existing

 

How many hours

Over twenty-seven years

Did we spend in one

Or the other

 

I don’t remember     now

How long we stayed

Looking up into that

Infinite world of stars

Maybe until our necks

Began to ache

I only remember

It was hard to leave

Ignorant astronomers

Were we

Excited to spot

Numerous shooting stars

The Big and Little Dippers

Then red Mars

And a satellite

Streaming across the sky

Amazed with the stars

Slow move of their

Positions

As the night

Moved

On

 

We left as we came

Driving down and around

The winding road

That led us around

And up

Museum Hill

Do you remember

Do you remember

I do

*starry night photo credit: Cliford Mervil

Numbers

th

Fifty odd years ago

I find

Six dining room chairs

Made from humble oak

In the crowded basement

Of a secondhand store

In Kenosha Wisconsin

They accompany me

To five different houses

A sixth chair left behind

When it cracks in half

In house number three

 

Four children of my heart

Sit on these chairs

All through their childhoods

And even today

Now their own children

Sit on them too

 

They are not new

These six oak dining room

Chairs

When I pick them out

From myriad others

I wonder

Where    when

Were they created

And by whom

They deserve noble stories

Of grand houses     mansions

But no     they are only

Humble oak

I envision them in a home

Where there is love

Where they surround

A beautifully dressed table

Laden with favorite dishes

Prepared by loving hands

But how to explain

The crowded basement

Of a secondhand store

In Kenosha Wisconsin

 

The chairs come with a

Table

It too from humble oak

With five extension leaves

That make me feel ecstatic

I stuff everything into the back of

Big Blue

My loyal station wagon

Carry them home

All for the price of

Twenty-five dollars

 

Holiday     birthday

Ordinary day dinners

Are eaten off the table

Homework cried over

Papers scattered across its

Top

My children travel the years

Sitting on these chairs

Around the table

Legs grown longer     appetites stronger

Until they leave     come back

Leave again

While he and I

The chairs     the table

Remain

photo credit