The hissing tires on the snowy street outside
and the noises of the warming radiator
ought, combined, to calm me and content me.

Instead I wish for happy company
and some obliging soul to wait on me,
yet will not leave my home and seek them out.

My task for the day accomplished:
I rode the city's buses through the storm
taking the child to her appointment

in an old but beautifully renewed building
staffed by friendly lively people
in a distant part of town.

There was once a pharmacy nearby,
perhaps a hundred years ago or so,
that was owned by my mother's grandfather.

She went to visit him from time to time;
and talked about the treat of ice cream there.
I looked out the window for it in the snow.

The child is asleep now, the work is done.
And yet I feel I must do something.
It is time to take up my knitting.