Winter Kitchen

The children's footfalls head to school,
Snow-balling; squealing, ever pealing
Now receding
Beyond the snowplow's growl.
I feel the silence coming softly
I hear the houses hush
In hills of snow surrounding.
Snug and smug, the kitchen clock is ticking
The yellow-birded kettle whistles
Recalling trains
And Grandma's breakfasts:
Thick home-made bread
Turned toast for me
To dip in well-milked coffee
While sitting on her knees
Tapping soft-boiled eggs
Gently not to wake the cat
Sleeping by the coal box.
Many years ago