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S. Thomas Summers


Just now, I thought of you –
the kettle whistling on the stove,

two bags of Earl Grey already deep
in your cup, and you somewhere 

in the house, fluffing a pillow, 
patting the white spot on the dog’s head.

You’ll open the windows,
saturate the house with spring’s

first perfume – a musk of earth and rain –
the kettle whining louder and louder.

© by S. Thomas Summers.
Used with the author’s permission.

Purchase a framed print of this poem.


S. Thomas Summers is a literature and writing instructor in New Jersey. The author of two chapbooks, he also conducts workshops for both students and teachers, using contemporary poetry as a catalyst to spark interest in unmotivated students. He writes because he believes poetry develops a keener appreciation of breath and, as of today, his lungs are clear and healthy. Learn more about Scott at

New comments are closed for now.
Julianne Carlile:
Posted 03/25/2011 06:53 PM
Posted 03/23/2011 02:33 PM
Perfect analogy for how they happen, this mysterious thing we call poems.
Posted 03/23/2011 11:32 AM
wendy morton:
The images in the poem are exquisite, simple; a celebration of the ordinary.
Posted 03/23/2011 10:18 AM
Beautiful! Makes me want to throw open all the windows myself!
Posted 03/23/2011 07:56 AM

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