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Sometimes I wake early and walk through the house
touching doors that swing into darkness
my bare toes searching out
toys and magazines
Outside it might be raining, a full wind
filling the trees like sails. I sit
in the love seat under the bay window, hugging
myself, letting the children’s dreams wash over me
like waves
Last night we took a friend for a walk along the edge
of our mountain. She looked out
over the city, the rivers, the sultry slopes
crowded with sumac and maple
and said So you know where you live
Yes, in the darkness and rain
our small house stands in a huddle of houses
under the clouds, in a story
we ourselves are telling
Copyright Michael Simms. From Nightjar (Ragged Sky, 2021). Also published in The Wonder of Small Things: Poems of Peace & Renewal edited by James Crews.
Michael Simms is a poet, a novelist and the founding editor of Vox Populi. His recent books include The Green Mage, Volume 1 of the Talon Trilogy (Madville, 2023) and Strange Meadowlark (Ragged Sky, 2023).

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Oh, those “doors that swing into darkness” so touches me, as do your last lovely landing lines:
“…our small house stands in a huddle of houses
under the clouds, in a story
we ourselves are telling”
Just lovely!
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thank you, Janis!
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This poem. This book 💖
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Thank you, Lisa!
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Oh, this is gorgeous, like a beautiful fabric unfurling.
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Thank you, Clayton. What a lovely simile!
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A lovely piece, quiet, it flows as if effortless. Often we forget where or how we are rooted.
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Thanks, Deborah!
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I like your magic poetry
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Thank you, Marina!
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Tashi sits on her broken stuffed chair, me on the arm of it, and we stare into the darkness with the tiny imaginary stream lined with christmas lights
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That’s very sweet!
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Ah, a bit of light in the dark. Thanks for this one.
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I am there with you, looking out of that window:
“[…] I sit
in the love seat under the bay window, hugging
myself, letting the children’s dreams wash over me
like waves.”
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Thanks, Rosemary!
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I love this, especially about the children’s dreams.
Don’t reply!
Gail
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OH I love how sweetly this poem knows where it is, how it moves and arrives and moves and arrives … and something about the tone just pulls me in.
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Thanks, Rosemerry. I love your poems as well.
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Enjoyed it. Like this very much:
Yes, in the darkness and rain
our small house stands in a huddle of houses
under the clouds, in a story
we ourselves are telling
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Thanks, John!
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This is beautiful Michael!!
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Thank you, David!
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Beautiful Michael. I love this story you are telling.
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Thank you!
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Very nice Michael! I sit at my own “post,” sentry of the same breaking day, reading and writing along with you, among our kind.
Thank you for being there.
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Thank you, Sean, for being here among us.
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Though I’m sure wonderful work is out there, I haven’t been able to read or write poems since early October, but opened this one to try again. Thanks Michael, for me, in my own house in the dark, this poem is my reminder not to allow others to tell our stories for us.
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Thanks, Emily. We must not remain silent.
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