Here are two poems about home. Where is home for you?


Moving Furniture


Satisfaction. The dark wood

warming beneath the rub of damp cotton,


the groan and creak of old bones

sliding across oak floors to an empty wall


warmed by sun sifting through snowfall –


drifting through pane upon pane of glass

the curtains half-pulled back to glance


at the courtyard’s crumbling face.


Is this why I feel belonging here?

and kinship?


Old furniture

touched by sun and snow –


by the light filtering in through sun and snow,


through the eyes of the guest

who has the audacity to grease a gleam


into the cracked credenza, into the wardrobe

with a broken door.


The song of old wood filling new spaces

fills me too, and I sing as I work,


drawing out the shine, reinventing

the place I live.




The elements of my life

surround me now


in the house of elements,


where all is still and good and

sturdy as a ladder-back chair.


where air and books

and work and prayer


give life a grip as firm as



though I am the questioner

who seeks sure-footing


among the white and beautiful



of this house that is built –

as God’s house surely must be –


of the space between

broken bars.


In silence, at night, I seed




(c) Andreana Lefton


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