Ordinary Day
A poem by Kathleen Fullerton

Ordinary Day

I change the cloth on the dining room table
we rarely use.
Open the china cabinet door
spilling the smell of my grandmother’s apartment,
after 20 years,
sweet, cedar, Jean Naté, bites the back of my throat.
I pull her cloth from the shelf.

Will you notice?
Salmon-colored linen, its creased topography across the table.
Will you think it’s artistic?
The round glass platter, blue and green iguana hand painted, from Australia
a gift when we left a lifetime ago.

I melt into the room’s soft hue.
Cherry cabinet glowing in the light from the window
filtered through bold purple rhododendron blooms
gangly limbs, glossy leaves framed there.
Brown and beige museum print, Aboriginal art,
muted above the salmon cloth over the mahogany table
legs aglow on honey floorboards,
dappled light hushes this ordinary day.

About the Author:

Kathleen Fullerton is an emerging writer having recently retired from managing a non-profit program in a youth correctional facility and 20 years as an educator. Her writing is inspired by her juvenile justice work, environmental education, and leading her grandchildren to a future she will not see. Kathleen’s current projects include poetry and essays telling the story of the non-profit program and sharing beauty and inspiration in seasons, in life, and in a garden. Her work has been published in Visual Verse Anthology, London Writers’ Salon Anthology Vol 1 & 2, and Brooklyn Poets, The Bridge, poems of the day.

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