“Still Life” by Carl Dennis
Now’s a good time, before the night comes on,To praise the loyalty of the vase of flowersGracing the parlor table, and the bowl of oranges,And the book with freckled pages resting on the tablecloth.To remark how these items aren’t conspiringTo pack their bags and move to a placeWhere stillness appears to more advantage.No plan for a heaven above, beyond, or within,Whose ever-blooming bushes are rustlingIn a sea breeze at this very moment.These things are focusing all their attentionOn holding fast as time washes around them.The flowers in the vase won’t come again.The page of the book beside it, the edge turned down,Will never be read again for the first time.The light from the window’s angled.The sun’s moving on. That’s why the peopleWho live in the house are missing.They’re all outside enjoying the light that’s left them.Lucky for them to find when they returnThese silent things just as they were.Night’s coming on and they haven’t been frightened off.
They haven’t once dreamed of going anywhere.