All day I did the little things,
The little things that do not show;
I brought the kindling for the fire
I set the candles in a row.
I filled a bowl with marigolds,
The shallow bowl you love the best-
And made the house a pleasant place
Where weariness might take a rest.
The hours sped on, my eager feet
Could not keep pace with my desire.
So much to do, so little time,
Yet, when the coming of the night
Blotted the garden from my sight.
And on the narrow, graveled walks
Between the guarding flower stalks
I heard your step; I was not through
With services I meant for you.
You came into the quiet room
That glowed enchanted with the bloom
Of yellow flame. I saw your face,
Illumined by the firelit space,
Slowly grow still and comforted-
"It's good to be home, " you said.
Blanche Bane Kuder
May each of you have a warm, comforting place to call home
for the Holiday.
Diana
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